


The Family Business

by L_Greene



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, F/F, F/M, Gangster, Guns, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-02
Updated: 2012-11-27
Packaged: 2017-11-17 15:37:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 26
Words: 79,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/553156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/L_Greene/pseuds/L_Greene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU! The Milligan family is in chaos. Their patriarch has vanished, leaving his two eldest sons Michael and Lucifer battling for control of the family business and with it, their city. Caught in the crossfire are their brothers Gabriel and Castiel, as well as Dean and Sam Winchester. With friends and family choosing sides all around them, Gabriel and Castiel are determined to keep their brothers away from the Winchesters while trying to keep their own family together. But when the unthinkable happens, can they hold together, at least until their father returns?</p><p>Written for NaNoWriMo 2012.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Celestial City, 2016._

In the front of Our Lady the Defender cathedral, a casket sat, closed and lonely, on the first step of the altar. A four-year-old boy with green eyes and sandy-blond hair sat next to his father and baby brother in the first pew. None of the three were crying, although they had every right to. The man and his older son were both still in shock. The baby, for some unfathomable but merciful reason, was asleep. John Winchester put his arm around his older son and pulled him close.

He more sensed than heard footsteps approaching from behind and turned to see a young-looking man heading up the aisle toward him. His suit looked smart and tasteful, just a shade lighter than black and perfectly pressed. He had glasses, a rather scruffy-looking beard, and a friendly sort of face. He was also only about five-foot-seven to John's five-foot-eleven. He wasn't sure why, but his first reaction was to trust this man. He stood up immediately.

"John Winchester, correct?"

"Yes, that's me. And you are…?"

"Chuck Milligan." He shook John's hand quickly. "It's nice to meet you. I'm sorry it had to happen under such unfortunate circumstances." Milligan glanced at the casket. "I'm very sorry for your loss. My condolences."

"Thank you, Mr. Milligan."

"Please, just call me Chuck. I hate being formal unless it's absolutely necessary."

John nodded in acknowledgement. He couldn't help wondering what Chuck wanted, as nice as he seemed.

"Your son?" Chuck asked with a glance toward the four-year-old. He had turned around, his knees still on the seat of the pew, and was peering over the back toward the stranger his dad was talking to. His eyes fixed on a point near the other man's knees.

"Yes, this is Dean. And my other son, Sammy, is sleeping right now."

Chuck cocked his head slightly and nodded when he saw the baby carrier. "This is my youngest, Castiel," he said, indicating a tiny figure that John had just noticed hovering right behind his father. He must have been only about a year and a half old with wide blue eyes and a mop of dark hair. He also wore a miniature version of the suit Chuck was wearing, down to the shoes. His eyes seemed to be locked right on Dean, not that John or Chuck noticed. "It's tough, raising them by yourself," Chuck added with another glance toward the casket.

John swallowed and nodded. "You know the feeling, then?"

"Absolutely. My wife died four years ago."

John looked back down at Castiel curiously. Chuck caught the unspoken question. "Castiel is adopted. So is Raphael. But my other three aren't."

John's eyes widened. "Five? That is definitely a challenge."

Chuck nodded, half-smiling. "Michael, my oldest, is seven. It's been difficult, but I think it'll be worth it." He reached down and gently ruffled Castiel's hair, causing the small boy to look up at his father with a brief flash of curiosity. "If you don't mind me asking, John, how did it happen?"

John's hand, which had been resting on the back of the pew, clenched up. "It was a fire. It… it actually started in the nursery." He let out a long, shaky breath. Dean looked at his father, wondering why adults talked about stuff that made them upset. He knew better than to ask, though. Things had been very strange since the moment Daddy put Sammy in his arms and told him to run outside.

He understood, in some small way, the concept of his mother being dead. He knew by now that she wasn't coming home ever and that all the things that had filled his days with happiness were gone. He wondered if Sammy would be able to remember what she looked like or anything else about her. He heard his father in his bedroom crying the night before and realized he'd never heard his father cry before. It made him cry, too. He'd wanted to sneak into Sammy's room and hold him, but he figured his father wouldn't be too happy, especially if he accidentally woke up Sammy. Still, something about this all seemed wrong.

"Well, thank God your boys are alright," Chuck said quietly. "I'd be lost if anything happened to my children."

"How did your wife…?" John couldn't help feeling a little bit curious, and since Chuck had asked about Mary, he felt it was only fair to ask the same of him.

"Childbirth."

It was then that John caught sight of movement over Chuck's shoulder. In the rear of the cathedral were four other little boys and another man, all in suits. The youngest-looking one, the one with long, golden hair, looked to be about four years old. He had what appeared to be a sucker in his mouth. "I'm sorry. How do you manage?"

"I have help. Some close family friends have always stood by me. All in all, I'm blessed." Chuck seemed to square his shoulders. "And that's actually why I'm here. To offer you help. If there's anything you need, anything at all, my door is always open. One father to another." Chuck produced a card from seemingly nowhere and handed it to John.

"I-I don't understand. We're complete strangers. Why would—?"

"Like I said. One father to another. Everyone needs a little help sometimes. And even if you never ask, consider knowing it's available as a means of reassurance. Dark things happen, John. But sometimes good things happen, too." Chuck gave him a smile and turned around, heading back toward the rest of his family. Without a word from his father, Castiel trailed after him, glancing back at Dean only once.

Dean looked up at his father. "Daddy, who was that?"

"I'm not sure, Dean." John swallowed hard. _But let's hope we never have to see him again._ John wasn't an idiot. He knew nothing came for free. The strange thing was, he just couldn't figure out Chuck's price.

* * *

The boys were well-behaved enough to know not to mess around in a church. It would be the ultimate form of disrespect and if there was one thing their father did not tolerate, it was disrespect.

Luce, of course, had learned that the hard way. Enough snide comments to Raphael about being _adopted_ (spewing the word like venom that no six-year-old should possess) had sent the younger boy crying to Daddy on more than one occasion. Chuck didn't yell often, but when he did, it was truly frightening. Ever since then, he learned to keep his overtly rude commentary to himself, but he still wasn't above making a sly, offhand remark every now and then. Whenever Chuck happened to hear, he would fix his son with a stern look and say, "Lucifer," in the warning tone that only a parent could perfect, and Luce would quickly babble an apology and hide for an hour.

Castiel never received such treatment from Luce, and Chuck could never quite figure that out. Maybe it was because the older boy had some vague understanding that Castiel wouldn't be hurt by such words just yet, but Chuck had a feeling his time was coming, and it was the same with Gabriel. It wouldn't be too much longer before he asked the inevitable question, "Why don't we have a mom?" And Luce, if he was present, would probably answer with something like, "Because you killed her."

And _that_ was a mess, too. If Michael or Raphael blamed Gabriel for their mother's death, they never verbalized it. To be fair, Luce hadn't, either. But if anyone was going to say something that callous to the boy, it would be Luce. He was definitely the problem child of the bunch.

But there were times when he could be incredibly sweet, too. It was almost eerie, how Luce could go from being mean to comforting in about three seconds. Chuck never knew what to make of it, but when the good moments came, he enjoyed them. He tried to reinforce them as much as possible, hoping one day, Luce might understand that _this_ behavior was preferable. He still had hope. He believed all of his children were inherently good.

Gabriel was slumped against the back of the pew in front of him, arms draped over the wood with a lollipop in his mouth. He idly toed at the kneeler he stood on, a look of pure boredom on his face. Daddy was taking _forever_ up there. He didn't see why they'd had to come along with him for this. He sighed lightly. Finally, he rolled his head to the side to take in his three older brothers.

Michael, their father's little pet, was sitting benignly on the pew just a few feet away, hands folded in his lap. As the oldest, he felt it was his job to set the example for his younger brothers, a job he took very seriously. And Raphael, who always ran to Michael when their father wasn't around, emulated his example perfectly. He sat on Michael's right, sneaking quick peeks at him and making sure he was sitting exactly as Michael was.

Luce, on the other hand, was sitting in the same row as them but across the aisle. Actually, he wasn't so much sitting as laying, his whole body against the seat with his arms cradling his head. He looked utterly relaxed and may have even been sleeping if his blue eyes hadn't been wide open, staring at the cathedral lights and stained-glass windows. Of course, Joshua noticed almost immediately and crossed the aisle to lightly smack the top of Luce's head.

"Ow! _What_?" Luce snapped as well as he could in a near-whisper. He clutched his head, looking annoyed.

"Sit up straight, boy," Joshua commanded. "You're in a church. Have a little dignity."

Telling a six-year-old to have a little dignity probably wasn't the best way to get the job done, but Luce knew that if he disobeyed Joshua, there would be Hell to pay from his father later. He rolled to a sitting position, tucked his feet under his butt, and crossed his arms, giving Joshua a look of loathing but not saying anything.

Joshua must have deemed Luce's new posture acceptable because he walked back over to the other three and hovered behind them. He scanned Raphael, Michael, and Gabriel, and sighed. Gabriel was apparently going to give him problems today, too. Joshua tapped the four-year-old's shoulder and when Gabriel turned around, the boys' caretaker jerked his thumb over his shoulder. The boy instantly understood and reluctantly slid his tiny body onto the seat. Satisfied, Joshua backed up to the wall and waited. Gabriel lightly kicked at the kneeler.

After an agonizing wait, there was a flash of movement from the front. All four boys suddenly straightened up as their father returned with their youngest brother in tow. Chuck went right to Joshua and they exchanged a few words, far too quietly for any of the boys to make out. Then he turned to his sons. "Alright, children. It's time to go."

Gabriel immediately hopped off his seat and pushed past Michael and Raphael. Luce unfolded himself and gingerly straightened up, realizing now that sitting on his feet had been a _bad_ idea; his legs had fallen asleep. Raphael waited for Michael to stand up and exit the pew before following him.

As soon as the boys were assembled, Chuck picked up Castiel and balanced him carefully on his hip. The toddler wrapped his arms around Chuck's neck and cuddled closer to his father. Chuck looked over his sons one more time and led them out to where the limousine was waiting.

* * *

John Winchester held out for close to a year. A year of drinking, a year of seeing whatever respect his older son may have had for him draining out of his eyes, a year of missing Sammy's first words, Sammy's first steps, Sammy's first teeth. Missouri had been a huge help in caring for the boys while he was holed up in some bar or another, refusing to accept payment after John finally lost his job. He felt guilty for that and ended up drinking even more.

And all the while, he kept remembering Chuck Milligan's offer. _"If there's anything you need, anything at all, my door is always open. One father to another."_ It bounced around in his head whether he was drunk or sober, and even when he tried to forget, even after ten and a half months, he still knew exactly where Chuck Milligan's business card was. Finally, he gave in, if only to shut that voice up.

 _He isn't going to help a drunk_ , he told himself, and that was enough reason for him to dig up the card and dial Chuck's number.

He picked up on the second ring. "Chuck Milligan."

John could barely muster his voice. He couldn't believe he was about to do this. He was a Marine, after all, and Marines could take care of their own. But right now, he was actually feeling like the statement "There are no ex-Marines" was a lie, and that he was living proof of that. "He-hello. This is, uh, this is John Winchester. You probably don't rem—"

"Ah, John! How are you?"

This was unexpected. "I've been better."

"I'm sorry to hear that. How are Dean and Sammy?"

Apparently, Chuck _did_ remember them. "They're fine."

"Dean's almost six now, isn't he?"

"In January. Sammy will be eighteen months in November."

"It's certainly been awhile, hasn't it? I actually expected your call awhile ago, but better late than never, right?" Chuck gave a short laugh that sounded genuine. "What can I do for you?"

Now came the hard part. "I… I lost my job."

Chuck let out a low whistle. "That's rough. How long ago?"

"About a month and a half."

"Laid off?"

It would be so easy to lie, to say that the business had been downsized, that he was just a victim of circumstance. But somewhere deep down, John knew that lying about something like that was asking for trouble. "No. I, um… I showed up drunk one too many times."

Chuck was silent for a few moments. "I can help you, John. I can find you another job. But you have to promise me that, if I do this for you, you won't be fired for your drinking. For yourself and for your boys, you need to keep this job, okay?"

John swallowed. "I can do that."

"Okay." Chuck was quiet again, and John wondered if he should say something. But then Chuck started speaking. "What was it that you were doing?"

"I was an auto mechanic."

"Did you like it?"

"Excuse me?"

"Would you want another job as a mechanic?"

"Ideally, yes, but I'll take whatever's available."

John could almost visualize Chuck nodding. "Aside from your drinking, how was your work performance?"

"I was an excellent mechanic." That was definitely the truth. His boss had actually expressed regret in losing John, but had decided that she couldn't afford another drunk working for her, even one as talented as him.

"Alright. Give me a week, and I'll call you back. What's the best number to reach you?"

John gave him his phone number and hung up, feeling stunned.

* * *

A week later, there was a knock on his door. When John answered, Chuck was standing there with a smile on his face and two men in suits who must have been over six feet tall behind him. Chuck was also wearing a suit, but without a tie and with his dress shirt unbuttoned at the top. "John!" he said brightly, his glasses catching the light. "I've got good news! There's a job waiting for you." He handed him a business card. "Be at that address tomorrow morning at seven. They'll be expecting you." He glanced down and, smile widening, tugged up the legs of his trousers to allow him enough slack to crouch down. "Good afternoon, Dean. You've certainly changed since I saw you last."

Dean, who had been hiding behind his father, looked from John to Chuck in mild confusion but more curiosity. "Hello," he said slowly. "You have a job for my dad?"

"Yes. I'm only here to help. Your dad wants to do what's best for your brother and you." Chuck seemed to read Dean's face for a few long moments. "You'll do what's best for your family, too, won't you?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah. It's my job to protect Sammy."

Chuck smiled. "And I'm sure you're doing a wonderful job. And I'm sure you'll keep doing a wonderful job." He affectionately ruffled Dean's hair before straightening back up and addressing the elder Winchester again. "Good luck, John. I have complete faith in you." He shook his hand, still smiling faintly. "I'll be in touch." He turned and passed between his bodyguards, leading them away from the house and toward a sleek black limousine. One of the guards held the door open for him and he slid in, and the other followed. The first slammed the door, went to the driver's seat, and got in.

" _I'll be in touch."_ The words didn't sit well with John. He was grateful for the job, but again, he couldn't help wondering about the price he'd have to pay.


	2. Chapter 2

_Celestial City, 2038._

Chuck Milligan tipped back in his chair with a sigh. He ran his fingers through his hair, closing his eyes in exhaustion. Finally, he plucked his glasses off and lightly tossed them on his desk. All the while, Joshua waited patiently for him to speak.

"I think it's time," he said, as though continuing a conversation they'd just been having.

"Are you certain?"

Chuck sighed again and scratched at his beard. He shook his head. "Of course not. You know I hate the idea, but they have to learn how to stand on their own. Michael still acts like he's eight sometimes. And don't get me wrong—Lucifer does, too," he added when Joshua shot him a reproachful look. "And you know Raphael emulates Michael, and Gabriel…" Chuck shook his head again. "Sometimes I think the only one who actually knows what he's doing is Castiel. But that's neither here nor there, now is it? I don't want to do this, but they're adults. They need to learn to act like it."

"And you're sure this is the best course of action for such a lofty goal?"

Chuck exhaled sharply, running his fingers through his hair again. It was a nervous habit, one that every one of his sons had picked up. It was almost funny, how similar and yet so different they all were. "No. I don't like it. But what other choice is there?" He only asked because he knew Joshua had no answer. "I'm just a father trying to teach his children one last thing. I don't know what else to do—they bring all their little squabbles to me. I can't be their referee forever, Joshua. I won't do it. It was fine twenty years ago, but…!" Chuck groaned in frustration. He was starting to wave his arms as he talked, which only happened when he was at the end of his rope. "Michael's twenty-nine, Castiel's twenty-three, and everyone else is somewhere in the middle. They need to start acting like the grown men they are."

Joshua had heard this rant far too many times to be fazed. He nodded once in understanding. "Alright, then. I'll get the car."

Chuck stood up. "I'll be ready in twenty minutes."

* * *

The first stop was Michael's house. On a Sunday, it was the most logical place for him to be. When the car pulled up in front of the gate, Joshua rolled down the window to be identified by the security guard. He took one look at Joshua and one look in the backseat toward Chuck and nodded. "Should I let your son know you're here?"

Chuck shook his head. "No, thanks. I'll just surprise him."

The guard waved them through and Joshua continued the idle roll toward the front walk.

Chuck didn't bother waiting for Joshua to open the door for him once they stopped. He simply popped open the door, climbed out, and went to the driver's-side window. "I'm just going to be a minute," he said after Joshua rolled the window down again. "Turn it around."

"Lucifer's flat next, correct?"

"Yes." Chuck straightened up and headed to the front door.

He hadn't been here since last Christmas. It wasn't because he never saw Michael, but because when they did see each other, it was either at one of their offices or at lunch. Apparently, things had changed since the last time he'd been here. There were twice as many guards around as he was used to seeing, and most of them appeared to be armed. He was uncomfortable in general around guns, but he knew that they all had probably memorized a picture of his face under a "do not shoot under any circumstances" list.

When he knocked, he expected Michael or Rachel to answer. To his surprise though, it was another security guard. She gave him a once-over and stepped aside, smiling graciously. "Good morning, Mr. Milligan."

"Good morning." Briefly puzzled, he held out his hand. "Just call me Chuck. And you are…?"

"Hester, sir. It's nice to meet you."

"Hester. Thank you. Is Michael here?"

"Absolutely. Let me go get him for you."

Under ordinary circumstances, Chuck would have declined and opted to find Michael himself. But the house was huge and he honestly had no idea where Michael would be. He was in a hurry, too. He had to see Raphael, Gabriel, and Castiel after he finished up here and spoke to Lucifer.

But when Michael appeared, Raphael was right behind him. _Well. Cross that stop off my list._ Both of his sons were in suits, or at least most of them. Michael wasn't wearing a jacket and his cuffs were wide open. His dark hair was carefully slicked back, the only aspect of his appearance that was completely put-together. Raphael was wearing a jacket, but without a tie and with the top two buttons of his shirt undone. Both looked incredibly surprised to see him.

"Dad!" Michael said, immediately stepping forward to give him a tight hug.

"Hey, Mike." Once Michael released him, Chuck hugged Raphael, too. "Raph, how are you? I didn't expect to see you here."

Raphael smiled. "I'm always here."

"I see. What's with all the security around here? I swear, there's almost more guns than people walking around."

Michael shrugged widely with a "well, what can you do?" expression on his face. "Dangerous times, Dad. You can't be too careful. No one around here's gonna shoot _you_ , though. They're all a lot smarter than that."

Chuck furrowed his brow slightly. "It's not _me_ I'm worried about."

Michael nodded as though he understood, even though Chuck had a feeling he really didn't. "So what are you doing here? Not that I'm not delighted to see you, because I definitely am. I just… I wasn't expecting you."

"Yeah. Yeah, I know. I just wanted to see how you were doing. Both of you, actually," Chuck added with a smile toward Raphael. "I was actually on my way to see you in a bit."

"Oh, you're not staying?"

"No, I'm afraid not. I have a few other people to see, but I wanted to drop by in person and see you."

"Oh." Michael nodded again. "Well, I'm fine."

"How's Rachel?"

The smile disappeared from Michael's face and he suddenly seemed older than his twenty-nine years. "She's… she's been better. Still upset about…"

Chuck nodded sympathetically. "I understand completely." He looked at Raphael. "And you?"

Raphael half-smiled. "I'm alright, Dad. Doing just fine."

"And things with you and Ruby…?"

"Better than ever."

"Good. I'm glad to hear it." Chuck got the feeling that Raphael was very close to proposing to his girlfriend of four years and of course wanted nothing but the best for them. The unfortunate incident of Rachel's miscarriage was the only dark spot on Michael and Raphael's lives, apparently. "Well, I won't keep you," he said finally. "I'm sure you're both incredibly busy, and I have to be off as well." He held open his arms and hugged them both at the same time. After a moment, they returned the embrace and he held them tightly.

Both Michael and Raphael were six feet tall, so Chuck had to stand on his tiptoes to hug them properly. He wasn't sure where Michael's height came from, but probably the same place that Lucifer's did—Lucifer was six-foot-one. Gabriel, at least, had taken after him in the height department, refusing to get any taller than five-foot-eight. But he didn't care. He kissed Michael's cheek and then Raphael's. "I love you. Both of you." He stepped back and smiled at them.

Michael and Raphael exchanged glances. "We love you, too, Dad," Raphael said finally, a note of confusion in his voice. They both appeared to want to ask him something, but Chuck just turned around and headed back out. He had a feeling that seeing Lucifer would be a bit more of a strain.

* * *

"So Raphael was there."

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"I don't know. It was okay, I think. I mean, I would have preferred to see them individually, but… Well, I guess it doesn't matter now. They're doing fine, which was the point."

"And Rachel?"

Chuck sighed. He had a soft spot for his daughter-in-law, but she hadn't felt up to having visitors in quite some time. It was probably why Raphael was there in the first place—he had a big heart and wanted to help his brother and sister-in-law any way he could. "Michael says she's been better. I understand, of course."

"Of course. Still to Lucifer's place next?"

"Yes."

* * *

Very few people outside the family knew where Lucifer's flat was. The name on the mail box was "Masters" to throw people off. Fortunately, the doorman knew who he was and let him in.

"Afternoon, Mr. Milligan," he said softly, discreetly.

"Just Chuck," he said patiently. He must have told this man a hundred times to just call him Chuck, but he never did.

Once in the elevator, he located his key and unlocked the button for the penthouse. There was no way to arrive unannounced to Lucifer's home, but at least he didn't have as much external security walking around to startle. The elevator bumped to a stop and the doors slid open, revealing his other daughter-in-law Meg.

She greeted him with a bright smile and outstretched arms. "Hey, Dad! We weren't expecting you!"

He returned her hug, feeling vaguely unsettled, but shook it off. "I know, I'm sorry. Spur-of-the-moment thing. Is Lucifer around?"

"Yeah, hang on. Lu," Meg sing-songed, turning and heading deeper into the apartment. Her bare feet sank into the plush stone-colored carpet as she walked and the highlights of her short blond hair seemed even paler when they caught the overhead lights. Being here always threw Chuck off a bit, although he could never quite pinpoint why. He was used to a fair amount of luxury, but his boys had thrown themselves in it. Lucifer's flat wasn't necessarily more high-end than Michael's house—that wasn't so much a house as it was an estate—but there was something about it that made it seem like more of a cage than a living space, even with the floor-to-ceiling tinted windows offering a panoramic view of Celestial City. He certainly couldn't see himself relaxing amid all the sleek black appliances and with a fire roaring even in August, but it suited Lucifer, and he was the one who had to live here.

When Lucifer appeared, he didn't look nearly as surprised to see him as Meg did. She must have warned him who it was because all that registered on his face was confusion. "Dad. What are you doing here?"

Chuck smiled. "Wow, no hug or anything? Just 'what are you doing here?' Nice. Very nice."

Lucifer at least had the decency to look slightly penitent. "Sorry. It's great to see you." He enveloped Chuck in a tight but brief hug before stepping back. "I just wasn't expecting you, you know?"

"Yes, I know. I'm sorry. I just wanted to see how you're doing. It's been a few weeks since we spoke last."

"Oh. Well, I'm fine." He furrowed his brow in bewilderment. "How are you? Did you want a drink?"

"Oh, no, thanks. I'm good. I just wanted to stop by for a moment. I haven't seen you in awhile." The last time they spoke was on the phone. It had been several months since they'd actually seen each other.

But apparently, Lucifer wasn't buying it. He gave his father a disbelieving look, crossing his arms over his chest. Despite the luxury of the apartment, he wouldn't have looked out-of-place at a rock concert. His faded black shirt bore the emblem of some band or another and though his black jeans were clearly designer and tailored to fit, they were well-worn and frayed at the bottom where they dragged across the floor. He was barefoot as well and he almost would have given the vague impression of a hippie if it weren't for the liberal amount of styling gel in his strawberry-blond hair, forming it into floppy spikes. "You drove all the way across town just to see me for two minutes?"

"A father can take certain liberties, can't he?"

The answer didn't seem to sit well with him, but he also knew he wasn't going to get a straight answer out of his father. He accepted it, however reluctantly. "Alright. I suppose that's true."

Chuck half-smiled, knowing he needed to leave now if he was still going to be able to see Gabriel and Castiel. "I have to get going, but it was good to see you."

"Yeah, it was. Even if the trip up here was longer than the actual visit," Lucifer added, just a hint of snark evident in his tone.

Chuck let it slide, though, and embraced his son. Just as he had with Michael and Raphael, he kissed Lucifer's cheek. "I love you, Lucifer."

The younger Milligan tightened his grip. "I love you, too, Dad."

When they finally let go, Chuck smiled again, if only to hide the fact that he was very close to crying. He patted Lucifer's shoulder and headed to the elevator.

* * *

"And Lucifer?"

"Seems to be doing well. That's what counts, though."

"Meg?"

"She was the one who met me at the door. I didn't ask but she didn't give me the impression of being anything other than fine."

"Do you wonder how long it'll last?"

Chuck bristled slightly. "I try not to ponder things like that."

"Gabriel next?"

"Yes."

* * *

Gabriel's house really was just a house. There was a fence around it, just like Michael's, but unlike Michael's, it wasn't electrified and ten feet high. It was wooden, painted white, six feet tall, and designed more for privacy than anything else. The mailbox affixed next to the gate had the initials _G.M._ on it. On the outside, it was simple. No one would suspect who lived inside. Gabriel had a thing for hiding in plain sight.

Chuck knocked on the front door and waited. He assumed Gabriel would be home, but it was quite possible that he was visiting Castiel. The two of them had grown close once Castiel was able to express himself in coherent sentences.

He had just about given up when the door was suddenly flung open and a golden blur practically attacked him.

"Dad!" Gabriel said excitedly, very nearly bouncing with his arms securely around his father.

"Hey, Gabriel," Chuck choked out, laughing. He returned his son's enthusiastic hug, resting his head against Gabriel's. He knew his beard was probably scratching him, but Gabriel didn't complain.

"How ya' doing, Dad?" Gabriel asked, finally pulling back. He was smiling cheerfully, making his golden eyes look even brighter. "Have you eaten lunch yet?"

Chuck laughed, feeling his mood lighten. "I'm fine, just fine. I actually can't stay, though. I just wanted to check up on you, make sure you're okay."

"Oh. Well, yeah, I'm great, though. Why wouldn't I be?"

Chuck shook his head, half-smiling. "I don't know. If there was something you weren't telling me, or something that happened since we spoke last…?"

He gave his father a puzzled look. "No, not at all. Trust me, you'd be the first to know."

Chuck smiled faintly. He knew Gabriel was telling the truth. "Good. That's good." He took a moment to look over his son, wishing he could stay longer. He always did like spending time with Gabriel. He had an innate ability to make people laugh. "I have to get going, though. Few more things to do today."

"I see." Suddenly, Gabriel was looking at him intently. "Are you sure everything's alright?"

A huge part of Chuck wanted to spill everything. He wanted to tell Gabriel what exactly was going on, to warn him of what was coming. But he couldn't. Doing so would defeat the purpose. So he just nodded. "Yes. Everything's fine." To divert further questions, he gave Gabriel another tight hug, which his son immediately returned. Chuck kissed his cheek, and as he did so, he heard Gabriel murmur something.

"I love you, Dad."

"I love you, too, Gabriel." With one last smile at his son, Chuck turned and headed back to the car.

* * *

"This is tougher than I thought it'd be."

"You almost told him, didn't you?"

"Almost. Part of me is glad that Michael and Raphael were together. Doing this five separate times? I think I'd fall apart."

"Do you still want to see Castiel?"

"Of course I do. I still miss him. Besides, when he finds out I saw all of his brothers but didn't see him, can you imagine how he would feel? No, I need to see him, too." Castiel was, after all, the baby of the family, and there was a soft spot in Chuck's heart for him.

* * *

Chuck only waited outside Castiel's door for a few seconds before his youngest son threw the door open wide. Castiel smiled and sank into his father's embrace.

"Hello, Dad."

"Hey, Castiel," Chuck said, not releasing him. "How are you?"

"I'm good, Dad. Really good." They finally let go and Chuck stepped back, beaming. Castiel looked the same as always, his dark hair messy without any product, his blue suit slightly and unintentionally disheveled, his tie loose around his neck. He looked more like a kid in his dad's clothing than a grown man with any amount of responsibility. He was twenty-three, but sometimes he seemed decades younger than his older brothers.

Chuck realized far too late that Michael and Lucifer and even Raphael were growing up far too fast. He felt like he just managed to catch Gabriel before he ended up like his brothers, but Castiel had been the one to retain his innocence. This would hurt him the worst.

But then, it would make him the strongest, wouldn't it?

"How are _you_?" Castiel prodded.

"I'm alright. I know I haven't seen you in awhile, but I wanted to drop by and check up on you."

Castiel smiled. "Thank you. And you're doing well, so that's a plus."

"Yeah. Yeah, it is."

"Are you hungry? I can make you a sandwich."

"Oh, no, thanks. I'm afraid I can only stay for a minute, so…"

"What's wrong?"

This was worse than Gabriel. He'd never lied to any of his children before. He always disliked dishonesty, but he knew that was about to make him a hypocrite. So for the first time in his life, he lied to one of his children. "Nothing's wrong, Castiel. I was just passing by and thought I'd see you for a minute."

Something behind Castiel's eyes seemed to say that he didn't believe him—or maybe it was simply Chuck's guilt projecting. But Castiel nodded. "Alright, Dad. Thank you."

Chuck hugged Castiel again and kissed his cheek. "I love you, Castiel."

Castiel squeezed his father. "I love you, too, Dad."

* * *

"That was the hardest thing I've ever done."

"It's about to get worse, you know."

Chuck sighed. "Yeah, I know. Did you make the necessary calls?"

"Yes."

"Alright. I'm ready."

* * *

Thirty minutes later, Chuck Milligan disappeared onto a charter plane.


	3. Chapter 3

_Celestial City, six months later._

A haze of cigar smoke hung in the air in Michael's office. This was the only room in which Rachel would allow him to smoke, and he made the most of it. He stared out the window, not allowing himself to think. It was too painful, and dredged up all sorts of questions he didn't want to ask himself again.

True, Michael suspected something was amiss when his father unexpectedly dropped by that day six months ago, but he never imagined… And when two weeks passed with no word from him, not even an email, which was his preferred method of communication, Michael finally gave in and called Gabriel.

Unbidden, the conversation began to echo in his head, no matter how he tried to shut it out.

* * *

" _Mikey! What's happening?"_

 _He's told Gabriel a hundred times at least_ not _to call him "Mikey" anymore. He's not eleven years old. Still, this is a matter of utmost importance and he lets it slide, just this once. "Gabriel. Have you gotten any emails from Dad in, say, the last two weeks?"_

_There's a beat of silence. "Well, no, but he did come visit me not too long ago."_

_The bottom drops out of Michael's stomach. "How long ago?"_

" _The sixth, I think. He only stayed for a minute. He said he had other things to do. Why?"_

_Michael's breathing suddenly sounds strident and labored to his own ears. His father had mentioned that he planned on seeing Raphael later, and he'd apparently seen Gabriel as well. Had Castiel and Lucifer been visited by their father as well? "He… he came to see me that day, too. Only stayed a minute. Raphael was there, too. I haven't heard from him since then."_

" _Has Raph?"_

 _Admittedly, Michael doesn't know, but he assumes that if Raphael_ had _heard from Dad, he would have mentioned it. He typically does. "I'm not sure. I'll ask him. Can you give Castiel a call and ask him?"_

" _Sure. Did you already talk to Lu?"_

_Michael's throat tightens. "No. I haven't."_

_Gabriel's sigh crackles the speaker, and Michael can practically see him rolling his eyes. "You have to talk to him at some point."_

" _I know. Just not today."_

" _Alright,_ fine _. I'll call him, too, then."_

* * *

Michael sighed deeply, his breath fogging the glass for a moment. It was December now, only a week away from Lucifer's twenty-ninth birthday. Michael never expected that his father would be gone this long. It wasn't like him at all. And wherever he was, it definitely wasn't here.

Right after Michael got off the phone with Gabriel six months before, he'd called Raphael. His brother had confirmed that he hadn't heard anything from their father since the day he came to see them. And when Gabriel called Michael back with the news that Dad had been to see Lucifer and Castiel, all on that same day, and they also hadn't heard from him since then, it was crushing. _Where is he?!_

Michael had called his father's number to see if he was still around, but Joshua was the one who answered.

* * *

" _Hello?"_

 _It's not his father's calm, reassuring voice. It's Joshua._ Oh. _Any hope that threatened to well up in his chest when the line connected has deflated. "Joshua. It's Michael. Is my father around?"_

" _He's gone."_

" _Gone where?" He fights to keep the panic out of his voice and fails miserably._

" _He hasn't told me."_

" _When did he leave?"_

" _Two weeks ago."_

_Michael's voice is nearing hysteria. It's just confirming what he suspected and, for once, he wishes he wasn't right. "When will he be back?"_

" _He hasn't told me."_

_Sheer terror rips through him. "Has he spoken to you since he left?"_

" _He has not made contact yet."_

" _Joshua, he could be in trouble!" The idea that someone could actually harm Chuck Milligan is laughable, but a possibility he can't ignore. "How can you be so calm?!"_

" _Don't use that tone with me,_ boy _." In seven words, Joshua's icy tone has made Michael feel twenty-five years younger. It's a reminder that, aside from his actual father, Joshua has been his primary caretaker since he was three years old. No matter how old Michael gets, Joshua will always have that authority over him, in a way that not even Chuck still exercises. Then again, Joshua was the one who disciplined Michael as a child. Chuck was always far more preoccupied with Lucifer._

" _I apologize," Michael rasps with as much dignity as he can muster._

"If _your father was in any danger, he would have contacted me. I have been instructed that, until such time that he informs me otherwise, he is to be presumed safe."_

 _Michael doesn't like it. He_ hates _it, actually. Not knowing where his father is paralyzes him. He's never felt alone before today—not truly alone, anyway—but now it's different. But he has to hold himself together. His father's disappearance has left him in charge, and his family will now look to him for guidance. It's the role for which he's prepared his whole life. He must provide stability and comfort, reassurance and calm. He squares his shoulders. He's ready. "I understand," he says, his voice never betraying a tremor. "Thank you."_

" _You're welcome. Look after Rachel."_

_He has his whole family to look after now. Even if Lucifer doesn't want it, he desperately needs it. "I will."_

* * *

But a month later, things weren't going so well. Raphael, of course, immediately accepted the situation. He recognized the awesome responsibility that had been placed on Michael's shoulders and dutifully vowed to stand by him, stand by the family. Things with Lucifer, on the other hand…

* * *

_In the elevator, Michael checks his reflection. He straightens his tie, adjusts his cuffs, straightens his hat, tugs at the hem of his jacket. He removes his hat and checks his hair, running his comb through it once before donning his hat again. He twists his wedding ring off, wipes it on the inside of his jacket until it shines, puts it back on, and readjusts his jacket. He tries not to be nervous, but he can't help it. It's the first time in several months that he's seen Lucifer face-to-face. Perhaps dropping in on him at home is a mistake, but it's too late to turn back now. He's already twisted the key to unlock the penthouse. Lucifer knows he's coming._

_The elevator stops. The doors open. Michael steps off, glancing around to quickly survey the room. Lucifer isn't here, but neither is Meg, from what he can tell. He wonders if showing up unannounced was a wise move, and then wonders where else his brother could be. His business hours vary, it's true, but there's typically nothing going on at noon on a Wednesday. Normally, Lucifer is home from dawn until five in the afternoon._

" _Mikey," a voice suddenly says off to his left._

_Michael recoils in surprise but turns to glare at Lucifer. His younger brother is leaning against a doorframe that he didn't notice earlier, looking exceedingly bored with his arms crossed over his chest._

" _It's 'Michael,'" he snaps. "Or 'Mike,' if you insist on shortening it."_

 _Lucifer's expression doesn't shift as he draws himself up to his full height—a grand one inch taller that Michael, but something of which he's been irrationally proud ever since it happened. "Of course," he says smoothly. "_ Mike _." His voice is layered with sarcasm. "What the Hell are you doing here?"_

 _Michael fights to keep control._ This _is why he hates Lucifer's presence. With just a few words, he can send Michael in a towering rage, and he doesn't like Lucifer getting the better of him. He's the older brother. He should be the one who maintains calm at all times. But the angrier Michael gets, the wider Lucifer's smirk grows, and it just enrages him more. "I have some news that I felt was best delivered in person," he says when he finally trusts himself to speak._

" _Ah. Congratulations," Lucifer says, crossing the room to the bar along the far wall. "Drinks, then?"_

" _Excuse me?" Michael isn't sure what he's playing at, but he knows he doesn't like it._

" _Your news. Rachel's pregnant, right?"_

_Oh, but Lucifer knows just how to get under his skin. If the answer is yes, Michael's triumphant reveal has all of the wind knocked out of it. If the answer is no, Michael is just reminded about how his wife is home and now on about eight different antidepressants. And the answer is no. "No," he growls. "She's not."_

_The asshole has a way of smirking without actually doing it. "Ah. I'm sorry to hear that, then. The offer for a drink still stands, though."_

" _Well, what about Meg? She's not pregnant yet, is she?" Michael can't help the bitter jab. He knows he shouldn't sink to Lucifer's proverbial level, but he gives into temptation._

_But it falls flat anyway. Lucifer pulls a face that conveys both disgust and disdain for the subject. "Ew, no. Babies." He shakes his head. "Messy. Very messy."_

_Michael's practically trembling with pent-up rage. He grapples to retain control, but damned if his brother isn't the most infuriating human on the planet. "Well," he says through gritted teeth, and he knows Lucifer can hear the anger in his voice. It's radiating off of him, simmering just beneath the surface, threatening to bubble over. He hasn't even been here five minutes and already, righteous fury is welling up inside of him. How can this man_ possibly _be his brother? How can they share_ any _of the same genes? "I'm sorry you feel that way."_

_Lucifer shrugs, a cool smile on his face as he fills a short glass with three ice cubes and a generous amount of Gentlemen Jack's. "Oh, well. I guess we're not all cut out for that kind of life. But if that wasn't your news, what is?"_

Right. _His brother got him so worked up that he actually forgot why he came here in the first place. But he remembers now. This is sure to piss off Lucifer, and he calms down. "I'm sure you remember how Dad came to see you not too long ago."_

_Lucifer takes a sip of his drink. "Of course. He came out of nowhere. Have you been taking lessons from him?"_

More than you know. _He glosses over Lucifer's comment. "As it happened, he also came to see me, Raphael, Gabriel, and Castiel that same day."_

" _And?"_

_He's getting irritated again, but he reminds himself that his news will probably have Lucifer plenty angry, and it's enough to keep him collected. "And that is the last time any of us heard from him."_

" _He's a big boy, Mikey—sorry,_ Mike _. He can do what he wants."_

" _I spoke to Joshua about it. He says that Dad has left no further instructions, except that we are to presume he's safe unless he contacts us and tells us otherwise. However, any decent contingency plan dictates that…" He pauses for a moment. Lucifer is now giving him his full attention, glass halfway to his lips as he slouches against the bar. He can practically see the wheels turning behind his eyes. "Until such time that Dad returns, I am the head of this family."_

 _Michael's right about his brother's reaction. Lucifer's expression subtly shifts, and it's clear that he's displeased with this news. The younger Milligan exhales slowly and sets his drink down. "I see. And of course, the last time we met was when you told me that my methods wouldn't be tolerated in 'this family.'" He puts the last two words in air quotes. "Yet here you are, suddenly including me back into 'this family,' but with the unspoken command that I now answer to you?" He shakes his head, fury suddenly melting in his ice-blue eyes. "No. I don't think so. It sounds like Dad didn't leave_ anyone _in charge. And to be honest, even if he_ did _leave you in charge, I still wouldn't answer to you, you pompous dick. Not everyone wants to be enslaved to Michael Milligan!"_

" _Now you listen here,_ boy _," Michael starts, but this sends Lucifer over the edge. His simmering rage bubbles over, blazing into a fury that envelops him until Michael isn't sure he recognizes the man standing in front of him._

"' _Boy'?!" Lucifer roars. He picks up his glass and throws it at Michael. He dodges it and the glass shatters against the wall behind him, splashing whiskey to drip down the wall. "Get the fuck out! Get out!"_

 _And so Michael leaves, practically flees, and the moment the elevator doors slide shut, blocking his brother from view, he slumps against the wall. His heart's pounding and the momentary flash of terror is subsiding._ Fine. _If that's the way Lucifer wants that, he'll let the brat have his way._

_It's war._

* * *

But one part of the whole situation nagged at Michael, even as the second and third months passed with no word from Chuck. How had he left? Someone must have known something. So he had Raphael send a few of his people out to investigate.

* * *

_Someone knocks on the door, and Michael looks up. "Enter."_

_It's Raphael, and Michael immediately stands. "Hey. Have you heard…?"_

" _Yes." Raphael has a small package in his hands. He regards it for a moment before handing it to Michael. The older Milligan raises an eyebrow but slits the envelope. "It's footage from the airport," Raphael narrates as Michael shakes a DVD case out of the envelope and into his hand. "I figured you'd want to see it for yourself, but it shows Dad getting onto a chartered flight to Dubai. When the plane lands, he doesn't get off."_

_Michael's eyes widen as he registers what Raphael just said. "He doesn't get off the plane?"_

" _No. The pilots and flight attendants do, but not Dad. I'm having our people run checks on his passport, but no hits so far. Not since he disappeared, anyway. No credit card activity, either."_

" _No," Michael sighed. "He wouldn't. He's been planning this. At least, that was the impression I got from Joshua. He's probably been planning something like this for years. I bet he has another passport and another set of credit cards under different names." Michael runs his fingers through his hair and turns away from his brother. He stares out the window before digging his cigar case out of his pocket. He clips off the end, puts it in his mouth, and lights it. "I just can't figure out why he doesn't want to be found."_

_Raphael doesn't have an answer, not that Michael expects him to. The only one who could possibly answer that question is missing._

" _Is it time to involve the police?" Raphael asks._

_Michael shakes his head. "No. Even if we did, Dad's smart. He'll stay away from them. No, if he doesn't want to be found, he won't be." He turns back around to stare at the DVD laying on his desk. He wants to watch it, but he's almost afraid to. It will just be the final confirmation that their father is gone, as if it wasn't clear enough already._

* * *

Since then, he watched the three-minute video more times than he could count. He searched it for any clue as to what happened to Chuck, but there's nothing at all. Clear as day, the Milligan patriarch passes through four security checkpoints, flashes his ID at the gate, heads out to the plane. A blip as the feed changes to Dubai security footage, and the pilots and flight attendants disembark. But the single passenger is nowhere to be seen.

Michael could feel that Chuck wasn't in danger. If he was in trouble, Michael knew that he would be able to sense it. He was just gone.

He sighed, taking a puff on his cigar. He turned around and hit the speaker button on his phone. The dial tone filled the air until he punched in a number he had memorized.

" _Hey, it's Gabriel and this is my private line. Call back."_ The line cut out. Gabriel didn't have an answering machine on this number.

Michael hung up and added another tick mark to his mental tally. This was the forty-seventh call in three weeks that Gabriel had ignored. It seemed that Gabriel had sided with Lucifer in this mess. He couldn't imagine why, but he didn't let himself ponder it for long. He simply dialed another number.

"Hello, Michael," a low, gravelly voice greeted him.

"Hello, Castiel. Do you have a minute?"

"Absolutely."

"Look, I was wondering. I know it's been awhile since we saw each other. So can we meet? Say, Thursday?"

"Thursday is fine. Your office, I presume?"

"Yes. Eleven o'clock work for you?"

"Of course."

Michael smiled. At least Raphael wasn't the only brother who hadn't abandoned him. "Thank you. I'll see you on Thursday then."

"See you on Thursday," Castiel promised solemnly.

Michael hung up, feeling slightly more satisfied. He exhaled a stream of smoke that bounced off the window. An irrational surge of confidence welled up inside of him. He would win this war. Lucifer would see. Him and Gabriel both, and everyone else who'd turned away from the family.

Victory was assured.


	4. Chapter 4

Sam was struggling to pay attention to his professor. He had to fight the urge not to check his phone. It was one of the class rules—no phones allowed, mostly to discourage cheaters—but he really wanted to pull out his phone. Dean had just gone on a job and he always texted Sam after he finished. Sometimes he would be gone for days at a time, though, so he couldn't expect the worst right now.

Still, he worried every time Dean left.

Next to him, Jess shot him a concerned look, but he didn't bother looking back at her. She was always worried about him even though she didn't know the full story about his life. She didn't need to know—no one else did besides him and Dean. It was better that way.

He'd seen what happened to people who revealed they were involved with the Milligan family. Instant shunning, and Sam didn't relish the thought of losing the few friends he had. Everyone was worried about pissing off someone who was that well-connected, as if they were in any real danger.

Maybe if Dean worked for Michael or Lucifer Milligan, maybe that would be true, but he didn't. To be honest, Sam wasn't even sure which of the Milligans he actually did work for, but Dean had assured him it was neither Michael nor Lucifer. He wasn't even sure how many Milligan boys there were besides the oldest two. Sam understood his reluctance in talking about his job, too. Dean was trying desperately to ensure that Sam didn't get caught up in that kind of life. He had done an excellent job so far of keeping the Milligans away from him, and Sam wholeheartedly appreciated it. He admittedly didn't know much about the Milligans aside from Michael, Lucifer, and their father Chuck, but he had to assume that they were all massive dicks. If he was wrong, Dean never bothered to correct the assumption.

All he knew for sure was that getting involved with them was trouble. It had already caused their family enough trouble.

For as long as he could remember, he'd heard their dad muttering darkly about the Milligan clan. It was Chuck Milligan's doing that John Winchester had a job in the first place. He knew from secondhand accounts—Dean telling this story once, just once, when Sam was six—that after Mom died in the fire, Dad started drinking and lost his job. Then he finally called Chuck, who found a job for Dad right away. He kept that job. He worked day and night at that job, leaving the house at strange hours—Sam recalled this; it started happening after he turned eight—to go to work, and they'd leave for school the next morning and he'd still be gone, and when they came back, he'd be asleep. Passed out drunk, more like, but he was always careful never to show up to work drunk. No matter what he did, he would mutter about having to keep that job, no matter what. Sam was never sure why, and he still wasn't.

And then John died when he was seventeen. By then, Dean already had a job working for one of the Milligan boys, one for which he was being well-paid, but the heart attack rocked their family. He remembered sitting standing by his father's casket at the funeral, the sudden crippling weight of loss threatening to buckle his legs, but still he stood. His back to the other mourners—coworkers of his father, a few family friends, Dean—he stood there until he felt a hand on his shoulder and spun around.

He had to look down pretty far. The other man was nearly a foot shorter than him, but he wore glasses and a kind smile. "Um, hi," Sam said. He didn't recognize this man, but he was dressed for a funeral. Black suit, black tie, crisp white dress shirt, perfectly polished shoes. Sam felt the sudden desire to trust this man, so he felt his guard slipping.

"Hello, Sam. You don't know me, but I know you," he murmured, shaking his hand. "I'm sorry it had to happen under these circumstances, but it's nice to finally meet you. Again," he added with a soft chuckle.

"I'm sorry?"

"The last time we met, you were six months old. It was your mother's funeral."

Sam swallowed. "You're… Chuck Milligan?"

The shorter man smiled. "Yes, that's me."

Sam had expected someone taller. Chuck was just five-and-a-half feet tall. Then again, he'd also expected someone a little more sinister. He seemed benevolent, actually. "Oh. Um, well, it's nice to meet you, too. I guess."

Chuck's smile slipped into sadness. "I'm not sure why you think I'm here, Sam, but I assure you that I don't want anything. I consider your father one of my friends and I only came to give you and Dean both my condolences."

Sam glanced over Chuck's head toward the back, trying to see if he could recognize any of the Milligan boys. He knew what Michael and Lucifer looked like—both of them had been on enough fashion magazine covers to fill an apartment. Both of the oldest boys, it seemed, had been blessed with movie-star-handsome features, although in very different ways. But no mop of strawberry-blond hair, no flash of slicked-back dark locks caught his eye.

"My sons aren't here," Chuck said, somehow sensing Sam's apprehension. "I thought it wise to leave them at home. They were busy, anyway." He patted Sam's shoulder. "I have to leave, too. But, again, my deepest apologies. I'm so sorry for your loss."

Sam nodded, unable to speak, as Chuck turned and went back toward the rear door of the cathedral. He looked at his father's casket for a few more moments and then went to sit down next to Dean. He felt like he'd been hit by a train.

No matter how nice Chuck had seemed, Sam reminded himself that he had ulterior motives. No matter how much his instincts told him he could be trusted, he forced himself to remember that his instincts were wrong. Chuck may not have caused the ruin of his family, but the rest of the Milligans could very easily see to that. Dean began working longer hours after John died, and now…

Well, Sam didn't know what exactly his job entailed, but he also knew that he didn't want details. He just wanted to be sure his brother was safe.

He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He prayed it was Dean and prayed for a speedy end to class. He always felt this way when Dean was out on some errand or another. He fretted while trying not to fret, bouncing his leg nervously until he got a confirmation text from his brother.

The rest of class was agonizing and he couldn't focus. He hoped Jess was taking notes, because he certainly wasn't paying any more attention. The moment his professor dismissed them, he made a beeline for the door, ducked into the hallway, and dug his phone out of his pocket.

_Sam, everything went fine. I'm heading home. See you after school._

Sam sighed with relief and waited for Jess to exit the classroom as well. Now that worry was no longer gnawing on his stomach, he realized just how hungry he was. "Lunch?" he asked her cheerfully.

* * *

Ever since the day Chuck had crouched down to his eye level and asked, "You'll do what's best for your family, too, won't you?" nothing had quite been the same. He always felt the strange crush of responsibility, as if there was a physical weight pressing on him. He never mentioned it to John or Sam, but it was there. And then, as he got older, John would tell him, "It's your job to make sure Sam never gets involved with the Milligans. Keep them away from him," and Dean would promise to do just that. What other choice did he have? But he couldn't help wondering, _What about me? Don't I get to keep myself safe from them?_

But as Sam got older, it became clearer to him that, out of the two of them, the youngest Winchester was the one more likely to make something of himself besides a two-bit thug. He studied, kept his nose clean, didn't chase after anyone who looked twice at him. He was smarter and just too good to get mixed up with all this chaos. He even had dreams of going to law school, becoming a lawyer. Dean realized that his GED and no aspirations besides protecting his family meant that all he would ever amount to was a foot soldier in the Milligan army. He accepted it and followed his orders.

Until he was twenty-one, he worked directly for Chuck. It wasn't necessarily dangerous work—he simply went where he was told, observed what happened, and reported back. When he was twenty, someone noticed him and got in his face. There were standing orders on what to do in these kinds of situations, so Dean mentally prepared himself.

The man shoved him against the brick wall of the alley, his breath hot and stale and reeking of day-old menthols. "You work for Milligan, don't you?" the man spat, peppering Dean's face with saliva.

"I wouldn't say I—" Dean started, but the other man interrupted him.

"All you fuckin' Milligan fucks, runnin' around like you own the place, all goddamn high an' mighty, you stuck-up scum-suckers!"

Dean swallowed his rage. He did work for Chuck, but he was of a different caliber than most of the other people in his position. This guy didn't know anything about him, but he knew to keep his mouth shut by now. The first order was _Do not provoke your assailant._

The other man's hand was inching around to the back of his jeans. _Oh, fuck._ He was going for a weapon. Dean was armed with only a knife, but it was only to be used to self-defense. The second order was _Do not first engage your assailant._ That was the most important rule. You were allowed to defend yourself, but your aggressor had to make the first move.

As soon as Dean saw the glint of the knife, he said hoarsely, "That's a big mistake you're about to make, buddy."

The other man scoffed. "Yeah? What are _you_ gonna do about it?" Without waiting for an answer, he made to stab Dean in the stomach, but he darted out of the way, pulling out his own knife as he did so. _When your assailant threatens you with deadly force, an equal response is authorized._ Dean had never had to pull his knife on anyone before—not in real life; training didn't count—so his hands were shaking with genuine fear. He tried to hide it, but it must have shown on his face, because the other man, even stumbling around to face him—he must have been heavily intoxicated—smirked. "So, the little baby's gonna try to hurt me, huh?" The knife flashed again, and suddenly Dean was running on pure adrenaline, raw instinct.

He slashed blindly, trying to keep himself out of reach of the other man's blade while aiming somewhere, anywhere to keep him from advancing. He felt his knife connect against something both soft and solid, and when the endorphins running through his system finally subsided and he was able to see again, the other man was on the ground, his knife abandoned next to him, his hands around his own neck. Blood poured from between his fingers and there was a shocked, horrified look on his face. He made a few ragged, choking sounds and Dean realized he'd cut the man's throat.

Dean's stomach lurched and he dropped his knife. _Oh, my God!_ Fighting his body's natural reaction to vomit, he forced himself to stay there until he was absolutely sure the other man was dead. He looked around, half-expecting to see a swarm of people and police cars ready to point the finger of blame at him—for which it was well-deserved—but there was no one. Panting heavily, he fled.

He didn't stop running until he was back in front of Zachariah, gasping and nearly insensible. He doubled over, words pouring out of his mouth that even _he_ couldn't understand. The older man took one look and him and sighed. "Calm down, Winchester. What's got you all worked up?"

"I-I killed—" Dean couldn't finish his sentence, but suddenly Zachariah looked a Hell of a lot more invested in the issue. He grabbed Dean by the shoulders to steady him.

"Winchester. Breathe, Winchester. Calm down."

After nearly a minute, Dean slowly straightened up and Zachariah's hands fell away. He still felt shaky, but the hysteria was subsiding.

"Alright, Winchester. Who did you kill?"

Dean swallowed. "I don't know who he was. He grabbed me. Pulled a knife on me. I tried to warn him."

"You followed the directives, correct?"

Dean nodded. "He nearly stabbed me in the stomach. He tried. I got out of the way. Then I pulled my knife."

Zachariah nodded carefully. "Then you'll be fine, Winchester. It was self-defense and you were on a mission from us. There isn't a police officer in the city who will even think of arresting you."

Dean nodded back. Suddenly, he understood the true extent of the Milligan influence. He wasn't going to be arrested for killing a man. Even though it was self-defense, he had the vague notion that the police were supposed to be involved. Right now, it was literally his word against a dead man's, and no one would question it.

He wasn't sure whether to be horrified or impressed. Who else had gotten away with murder while under Milligan orders?

Zachariah eyed him for a moment. "Wait here," he said, and disappeared through the door behind him.

Dean's heart rate had just about returned to normal when he registered movement out of the corner of his eye. He whirled around and caught a quick glimpse of a pale figure with dark hair disappearing down the hallway. He made to follow but had only taken two steps when the other door opened and he turned back around.

_Oh, Jesus._ It was Chuck. Dean went right back into panic mode as Chuck approached him, studying him. His expression was unreadable.

And then Chuck pulled him into a brief, tight hug. "I'm very sorry, Dean. It's not easy to take another's life. I can't imagine what was going through your head."

Dean swallowed and nodded. "I don't really know, either."

"You did the best you could, Dean. Of that, I have no doubt. Go home for the rest of the day. Spend time with your father and your brother. Come back tomorrow, and we'll talk about it some more, okay?"

Dean nodded. Feeling numb and disconnected, he started to walk out but Chuck called after him, "Wait. You need a new shirt."

He looked down. He hadn't realized it on the way over here, but his white shirt was soaked with blood. His jacket was leather and the blood would wipe off, but the shirt was a lost cause. Dean immediately shrugged out of his jacket and pulled his shirt off.

"Wait here," Chuck said, taking his shirt. Without another word, he disappeared back through the door. After an indeterminate amount of time—it could have been seconds, it could have been hours—Chuck returned with another shirt, blue with a band logo on it. "It's my son's," he explained, handing it to Dean. "You're about the same size and he was willing to part with it."

Dean nodded and slipped it over his head. If it had been less worn, it would have been tight, but repeated washings had softened the cotton and stretched it, fitting right to his torso. He donned his jacket. "Anything else?"

Chuck shook his head. "Just be back tomorrow. Don't do anything until then, okay? Sleep on it. Nothing will change what you've done, but you can always change yourself."

Dean nodded and then left the house.

Looking back on it, it was amazing how much of a difference six years made. Now, the idea of killing a person barely fazed him. He supposed it should have, but when you were a contract killer under orders to take out the truly evil people in the city, it was easier. Knowing they deserved it made all the difference. It was why, now, Dean thought nothing of hurrying across the parking lot to a man named David and flagging him down with a cigarette in his hand.

"Hey, David! How're you? Hey, can I get a light?" he asked brightly.

"Uh, sure. D-do I know you?"

"Yeah, it's me, Dean! Dean from school, remember?"

David still appeared puzzled, but he flicked his lighter and held the flame up to the tip of Dean's cigarette. "Um, I'm not sure. Which class again?"

But the act was over. Smoothly, with a speed that had been perfected by being repeated hundreds of times, Dean withdrew his pistol from the waistband of his jeans as he flicked the safety off, pressed it against David's temple, and hissed, "Eva says, 'Go to Hell.'" He pulled the trigger and the shot echoed through the nearly-empty parking lot. David crumpled to the ground, and Dean waited until the light went out of his eyes before putting the safety back on, tucking it behind him again, and striding away.

He had one last stop to make before he could head home, so he climbed into his Impala, a family heirloom from his father, and put the car in drive.

* * *

"Any problems?"

"None at all, Mr. Milligan."

"Good. Thanks. Now I can let Eva know her problem's been taken care of."

Dean nodded. As he did every time, he said, "It was my pleasure to be of service."

The other man laughed and threw a Jolly Rancher at him. "Get out of here, kid," Gabriel Milligan said, even though he was actually a month younger than Dean.

The younger Winchester smiled and did as he was told, closing the door behind him with a definite snap. As soon as he was clear of the office, he pulled out his phone and texted Sam. _Sam, everything went fine. I'm heading home. See you after school._


	5. Chapter 5

"…I love you very much. Never forget that." Chuck smiled at the camera and let it record for another moment before cutting it. As soon as the light went off, his smile dropped and he sighed.

He pulled up the set of emails he had saved as drafts and attached a different video to each of the five emails. He clicked send, and once the confirmation notice displayed, he rubbed his eyes and closed the lid of his laptop.

* * *

Castiel sighed lightly and glanced up at his clock. It was eleven-thirty, and he had a scheduled lunch with his brother in less than an hour. Part of him was dreading it, but he felt it was important to maintain good relations with all of his brothers. The past few months had been incredibly trying for all of them with Dad being gone, and Michael and Lucifer's all-out war had only exacerbated things. It seemed as though his whole family was turning on itself, and it made him sick to his stomach.

His email program let out a _ding_ to inform him that he had a new message. Brow furrowed in curiosity, he checked the sender and felt his jaw drop. _Dad!_ Oh, this was great. Any news from Dad was better than no news at all.

There was no message, as was his father's custom. There was simply a video attachment, which he clicked. His father's face filled the screen, and the eldest Milligan was smiling. Behind him was the headboard of a hotel bedroom and light-yellow wallpaper. The reflection of the screen that Chuck was looking at showed in his glasses.

"Hey, Castiel. It's Dad. Well, obviously. Look, I know your brothers and you are all worried about me, but please trust me when I say I'm safe. There's nothing to worry about. I'll return home, too. I just don't know when. There's a lot I need to do. Things I can't…" A deep sadness etched itself across his father's face. "Things I can't explain. I'm sorry to have to keep you in the dark, Cas. I truly am. And I miss you. I look forward to the day we can see each other face-to-face again. Castiel, I love you very much. Never forget that." Through the camera, his dad fixed him with a tender, bittersweet smile. A moment later, the screen went black and then the video window shrank.

 _Play again?_ a dialogue box asked him. He hit _No_ and sighed.

It was absolutely insane, how a kind, caring man like Chuck could have fathered two sons like Michael and Lucifer. Nearly every day for the past two weeks, bodies had been found in the streets, people who had once vowed their allegiance to either Michael or Lucifer. Shot to death, stabbed to death—whether on his brothers' orders or not didn't matter. It was because of them that this chaos now ripped through Celestial City. Even though it simply wasn't Lucifer's style to kill, especially indiscriminately, and although Michael never once used a weapon, they were inadvertently responsible for all of this.

And now he was about to have lunch with Lucifer.

* * *

When you couldn't find Lucifer at home or at Perdition, his casino, he could more than likely be found at Armageddon, the restaurant he owned. It was where Castiel met him for lunch that day, at his private table all the way in the back. He felt distinctly out-of-place as he followed the maitre d' between the tables even though he was the owner's brother. Everyone there was dressed in sleek black or blinding white, and Castiel was wearing his customary blue suit. He'd straightened his tie and buttoned his jacket properly, but he still felt horribly under-dressed, especially when Lucifer stood up to greet him and his younger brother got a good look at _his_ suit.

Lucifer, of course, was dressed impeccably. His watch was white-gold and slick, perfectly matching his wedding ring. His suit jacket was completely unbuttoned, the pattern a pure black with dark gray pinstripes. He wasn't wearing a tie and the top two buttons of his black dress shirt were open, and even though it seemed almost casual, his brother, as always, was able to convey a kind of elegance and style he couldn't possibly pull off. Michael couldn't do it, either. Even the tousled appearance of his strawberry-blond hair did nothing to detract from his overall look. His ability to look like a hot mess and still appear classy was something that was solely Lucifer's.

"Cas!" Lucifer said cheerfully, grinning at him brightly.

"Good afternoon, Lu," he said dutifully. He allowed his brother to wrap him in a tight but brief hug.

"Go on, sit down," Lucifer said. He seemed genuinely excited, but for what, Castiel couldn't tell. Just to see him? That was unlikely. Either way, Castiel acquiesced and took the seat across from Lucifer. After he ordered them both scotch on the rocks, he leaned back in his chair. "So how've you been the last few weeks?" the older Milligan asked.

"I've been fine," Castiel said carefully. As he spoke, he caught a glimpse of what looked like a bruise close to the base of his neck on the right side. Somehow, it didn't surprise him. Meg seemed the type to leave hickeys. It was possible that Lucifer left it exposed on purpose, but it was also equally possible that he didn't know it was there. He wasn't quite sure what compelled him to say anything about it at all, but he did. "You have a, ah, a hickey," he added, pointing to his own neck to demonstrate approximately where it was.

Judging by the surprise on Lucifer's face, he obviously hadn't noticed it. He quickly picked up his phone off the table and checked his reflection. He located it, sighed, and rolled his eyes. "Great," he muttered. "I keep…" He let out another exasperated sigh and buttoned the bottom undone button. It completely obscured the bruise from view. After a moment, he appeared to recover. "Has Mikey been in contact?"

"Yes. I'm meeting with him tomorrow."

Lucifer quirked up an eyebrow. "Really? Interesting."

"I imagine he'll have something similar to say when I mention that I was here with you today."

"If that's the case, why are you here?"

"You invited me, Lu. You're my brother and I don't think it's right that I have to cut myself off from one or both of you. I don't want this to be what rips this family apart."

Lucifer cocked his head to the side, pressing two fingers to his temple as he considered the youngest Milligan's words. Suddenly, he nodded. "Okay. I can accept that."

"I'm not picking sides," Castiel added. "Think of me as Switzerland. Common ground for both of you."

Lucifer chuckled softly, although the sound seemed far from genuine. "I wonder what Michael will say to that. He's probably wondering why you haven't already sworn yourself to him. Raphael and Gabriel have already done just that."

It was Castiel's turn to tilt his head. "I was unaware that Gabriel had chosen a side. From what I understood, no one has heard from him in some time."

His brother shrugged as a waiter appeared with their drinks. Castiel hadn't developed quite the taste for hard liquor that his brothers had, but he accepted the scotch without comment. He took a sip and managed not to choke when it burned his throat. If Lucifer noticed, he didn't say anything about it.

"I received an email from Dad this morning," Castiel added.

"Video attachment?"

"Yes."

Lucifer nodded, mostly to himself. "So did I. He said not to worry about him and he'd come home soon, but he didn't know when, right?"

"Exactly."

"Yeah. I can't figure that out. What could be so fucking important that it takes him away from his family?"

Castiel didn't have an answer for him. He'd been wondering the same thing for awhile. Didn't their father have any idea what his absence was doing to the whole family, to _everyone_?

"Anyway," Lucifer went on after a few moments of companionable silence. He took a sip of his scotch and set the glass back down. "Are you planning on telling Mikey what we're discussing?"

"The thought of lying to him hadn't crossed my mind. But we haven't talked about anything too controversial."

"Not yet, anyway. But that's fine." Lucifer leaned forward and stared at his brother. "In fact, I _want_ you to tell him about this."

"About what?"

Lucifer appeared to weigh his words before he spoke. "You remember John Winchester, right?"

"Yes," Castiel said slowly, wondering where this was going.

"Well, Dad never asked him for a favor. And, obviously, that's impossible now. But that's fine, because it works out better for me. John Winchester had two children, Dean and Sam. Dean Winchester, as I'm sure you know, works for Gabriel. That's part of the reason I've been trying to contact him, but my failure to do so is irrelevant. I honestly have no need for someone like Dean. No, I'd much rather have Sam Winchester on my side. He's currently in law school right now, and… well, I've heard from very reliable sources that he's going to make a very gifted lawyer. _That's_ the kind of person I need, and good help is _so_ hard to find these days."

Castiel felt the dead weight of dread settle into his stomach. He'd never met either of the Winchesters, hadn't even seen them, but the predatory look on his brother's face frightened him. Lucifer would chew up Sam Winchester and spit him out when he was no longer useful. It would break him, possibly break the family their father had tried to heal. "I see," he said quietly. "And that's what you want me to tell Michael? That you've called dibs on Sam Winchester?"

"Yes. And that I can take anything he throws at me." Lucifer leaned back in his seat and gave him a confident smirk. "So, are we ready to order?"

* * *

If Castiel thought the situation with his brothers couldn't possibly get any worse, it was before he met with Michael the next day. That nagging trepidation refused to let him sleep the night before, so when he arrived at Michael's house the next day, he looked bad and felt even worse. There were circles under his eyes and he hadn't even bothered to straighten his tie. He just tied the belt of his trench coat around his waist and shivered all the way up to Michael's front door. The nearly-freezing air woke him up a bit, but it did little to ease his worry.

"Mr. Milligan," Hester said when she opened the door. She sounded surprised but Castiel just ignored it and stepped inside.

"Morning, Hester. Michael's expecting me."

"Of course. He's in his office right now."

Castiel nodded and shook his hair to clear the bit of snow that hadn't already melted in the warm house. He brushed his hair back and went off to Michael's home office.

He wasn't quite stupid enough or brave enough to just open the door and sail in, even if Michael _was_ his brother. Feeling awkward, he knocked on the door and waited until his brother's voice floated out. "Yes?"

"Michael, it's Castiel."

"Come on in here!" His brother sounded decidedly more cheerful when he heard who it was.

Castiel slipped inside, careful to close the door behind him. His brother immediately stood up and came out from behind his desk. Castiel barely had time to register his brother's dark-blue suit jacket flung over the back of his chair, the light-blue shirt buttoned up with a neatly-tied red silk tie, and the dark-blue suspenders his brother wore before he enveloped Castiel in a warm hug. "God, it's good to see you," Michael said, not letting him go.

"It's good to see you, too, Michael." Despite the unsettled feeling still in his stomach, seeing Michael, just as seeing Lucifer, brightened his mood. For a few moments, they were kids again, before the fighting with bigger and more dangerous toys began. There had once been a time, some long-passed paragon that he remembered, however vaguely, when Michael and Lucifer had been close. Things had changed, but for a few years, right before Michael went to high school, they had been best friends. It had been the ideal. While Lucifer was in middle school, he'd actually been _nice_. He hardly ever made cruel comments to any of his brothers, and everything was perfect.

Castiel had been eight when Michael went to high school, so he remembered what happened. Suddenly, Michael stopped seeing Lucifer as his brother, his equal, and started seeing him as an inferior, someone he had to look after. It pissed Lucifer off, and as suddenly as it started, the three years of peace had been shattered. They'd been at each other's throats since then, Michael insisting that Lucifer needed guidance and that he was just the person to give it, Lucifer convinced that Michael was being a self-righteous older brother who didn't realize that fifteen months wasn't an acceptable age difference to be doling out life advice. The sad thing was, Castiel had been able to see the point that both were trying to make. They were both right, and they were both wrong.

And now it had just escalated.

Michael finally released Castiel, grinning widely. "How've you been?"

"I've been better," he admitted.

Michael's smile took on a touch of sadness. "Yeah, I wasn't going to say anything, but you look like crap."

"I didn't sleep very well last night."

"Why not? Here, sit down," he added, gesturing to the chair across from his desk. "Is it about Dad? Did you get a video from him, too?"

Castiel nodded slowly. "I did, but that's not why I didn't sleep. But what did Dad say to you?" More than anything, he was desperate for answers. If there was any information that could be gleaned from his brothers' videos that wasn't in his, he wanted it.

Michael sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "Just that he sends his love and not to worry about him. He says he'll be back, but he doesn't know when. Something about having other things to take care of." He shrugged, looking tired. "I don't get it, but okay. If he's staying away, he has a reason. He's our father, and I'm not about to question him. Why? Did he say anything else to you?"

Castiel shook his head. "No, that's pretty much exactly what he told me. Apparently Lu got a similar video," he added carefully to gauge his brother's reaction.

Michael pursed his lips for a moment. "I see. When did you speak to Lucifer?"

"Yesterday. We had lunch."

The older Milligan didn't look too happy with this news. "And what did you talk about?"

"The email from Dad. And…" Castiel sighed, trying to decide how best to phrase what he was about to say. "He wanted me to tell you that he's going to get Sam Winchester on his side."

Michael narrowed his eyes. "Sam Winchester… John Winchester's son?"

"Yes."

Michael scoffed lightly. "That's appropriate, then, isn't it? I remember the Winchesters. Dad never got a favor out of John, and since he's dead…" He shrugged. "Just as well. I'm far more interested in getting Dean Winchester on my side. Someone with his skills will be highly useful."

Suddenly, the apprehension that had filled Castiel before became cold and sick. His brothers were planning on tearing _another_ family apart? "I see," Castiel managed to say.

"The only problem is, well, Winchester works for Gabriel, and Gabriel won't return my calls. It would appear that he's sided with Lucifer."

Castiel suddenly looked up at his brother. He had been looking down, twisting his fingers in his lap. But now, he gazed at his brother with a dim sense of confusion. "No," he said. "Gabriel isn't returning Lucifer's calls, either. He was positive Gabriel sided with you."

Michael raised an eyebrow for a moment before scoffing again. "Wonderful. Another family traitor. It just demonstrates how Winchester's talent is being wasted working for Gabriel. I could put him to much better use."

Castiel swallowed. Well, if Michael didn't like what Gabriel was doing, then he probably wasn't going to like what Castiel was about to say. "You do realize that my meeting you does not mean I've taken your side, right?"

"I got that impression when you said you met with Lucifer."

"I'm not on his side, either, Michael. I'm not choosing sides, either. Dad wouldn't want this family to implode like it's doing and I refuse to cut myself off from anyone in this family over this stupid little spat."

Just as Lucifer did, Michael cocked his head to the side. He seemed to size Castiel up for a few moments before he slowly nodded. "Alright, Cas. I don't agree with you, but you're obviously not showing any partiality, so… I accept it."

"As I told Lu yesterday, I consider myself Switzerland in this war."

"And I respect that. But let me just say this." Michael, who had been leaning back in his chair, pitched forward to rest his forearms on the desk in front of him. "If you change your mind later and want to stand with me, I will welcome you with open arms. You and Gabriel both. But if you— _either_ of you—stand with Lucifer, you will receive the same treatment as him."

Castiel nodded. He understood the threatening undercurrent in his brother's voice. He knew what he was saying—he was terrified that if Castiel and Gabriel decided that Lucifer was right, everything would shift. Right now, Lucifer and Michael were locked in a stalemate, but it was only a matter of time before the first true shot of this war was fired. If Gabriel brought his people to Lucifer's side, it would tip the balance in his favor and then, no matter who fired the first shot, Lucifer would win.

Castiel just wanted the deadlock to remain until their father returned. How much longer could he be? It had already been six months.

But just as much, he knew without a doubt that if Michael and Lucifer got their claws into Dean and Sam Winchester, things would escalate very quickly and both families would be destroyed. So when Michael and Castiel finally said goodbye, he knew what he had to do.

With a surge of adrenaline waking him right up, he climbed back into his car. He didn't know where Dean Winchester lived or even what the man looked like, but he knew someone who did.

As fast as was legally allowed, he tore over to Gabriel's office.


	6. Chapter 6

Gabriel must have watched that video from his father thirty times since he received it. A deep sadness washed over him every time. What his father was asking of him… It was too much responsibility for one person to shoulder. How could anyone make his brothers see sense?

He ran his fingers through his golden-blond hair. Despite the cold seeping in from outside and the fact that his dark-blue suit jacket was hanging off the back of his chair, he still felt incredibly warm. It was practically stifling in this office, and he just wanted to be done with today.

No—actually, all he wanted was his father to come home. He didn't seem to understand the madness that had taken hold here. Michael and Lucifer seemed determined to tear each other to pieces and Gabriel wanted no part of that. Even with everyone else around him taking sides, he couldn't bear it. He just wanted it to be over.

Abruptly, there was a knock on Gabriel's door, and a moment later, Tony Baldur stuck his head in the office. "Mr. Milligan, your brother is here to see you."

Gabriel gave him a wary look. He'd had enough brothers trying to contact him lately to not quite trust this news. "Which one?"

"Castiel, sir."

His expression cleared almost immediately. "Oh, _that_ one. Send him in." He would have had Tony send in whatever brother it was, but at least Castiel hadn't turned into a huge bag of dicks since their father vanished. As Tony left, Gabriel stood up, his typical impish grin sliding into place. The moment Castiel appeared, he wrapped him in a tight hug. "Cas! Hey, little bro! What's happening? It's been a long time."

"Too long," Castiel agreed, returning his brother's embrace. "I've missed you. How have you been since Dad…?"

Gabriel's grin hitched momentarily. "I've been doing okay. What about you? I know it's easy dealing with Mikey and Lu fighting. I've seen the papers," he added quietly. Every day, it seemed like there were new stories of deceit and betrayal, mayhem and killing, all coming back to the same root.

Castiel grimaced as he took a seat across from Gabriel's desk. His older brother dropped into his chair with a sigh. "Lines are being drawn, Gabriel. Raphael picked his side already. He stands with Michael."

"Does that surprise you? Mikey was always his great defender when we were kids. Especially against Lu."

Castiel nodded solemnly. They both remembered how Lucifer used to taunt Raphael mercilessly, as though being an adopted member of their family made him a second-class citizen. He'd come around eventually, probably because their father's stern lectures had finally sunk in, but Raphael clearly harbored a grudge. Castiel felt fortunate that, by the time he was really old enough to understand the concept of being adopted, Lucifer had already laid off. Castiel had been adopted as well, but no one made fun of a toddler for something like that.

Then again, Lucifer _could_ be very nasty when he wanted to be. Gabriel remembered the angry whispers he'd gotten from his older brother when they were children, and even though their father had put a stop to them as well, he was still pretty sure that Lucifer still thought of him as the one that killed their mother. It was something that Gabriel himself was still struggling to come to terms with, although lately, he'd been trying not to dwell on it. It's not like he could change something that happened nearly twenty-seven years ago.

"Lu's been trying to call you," he said quietly. "And Michael. They both say you won't talk to them."

"They're damn right, I won't answer either of them. They both want the same thing—me on their side. No, I'm not picking sides."

"When I heard you were ignoring them, I wasn't sure you'd see _me_."

"You're not trying to make me choose one of them in this almighty pissing contest, are you?"

"No, of course not. After all, I can't in good conscience pick a side, either."

"Then why wouldn't I see you? You're not trying to convince me to aid in the destruction of one of my brothers." Gabriel shook his head sadly. "That's why I cut myself off, you know. I knew, even before Dad disappeared, that they would end up like this. I can't watch them tear each other apart like that. I know that, one day, one of them is going to kill the other."

Castiel's eyes widened in surprise. "You don't really think that, do you?"

"Of course I do. I mean, I'm not stupid enough to think they haven't already seriously contemplated it. I just know that, for right now, their bond can weather this. One day, though, it won't. And personally? I think Lucifer is going to snap first."

Castiel gave him a look that somehow managed to be both saddened and incredulous. "How can you think that one of our brothers has the capacity to kill one of our own? Someone outside the family, sure. But not his own family. Besides, murder really isn't Lu's style."

Gabriel sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm not saying I like the prospect, Cas. I'm just saying—there's only one way this can end, and that's bloody. Someone is going to die before this is over."

"For Dad's sake, I hope you're wrong."

Gabriel scoffed. "For _all_ our sakes, I hope I'm wrong." For a few moments, they didn't look at each other. Finally, the blonde shifted in his seat. "But I'm sure you had something else to discuss, eh? Or is this just a social call?"

"Both, actually. I _did_ want to see how you're doing. No one's heard from you in awhile, after all. But there's something else." Castiel wringed his hands as he tried to decide how to express what he wanted to say. "Your man Winchester is in danger," he finally said. He scrutinized his brother for a moment before adding, "And so is his brother."

"Dean Winchester can take care of himself _and_ his brother."

"That may be, but it seems better to warn you. Both Mike and Lu have their eye on one of the Winchester brothers. I just left a meeting with Mike about a half an hour ago and I had lunch with Lu yesterday, and—"

"Double agent?" Gabriel joked with his usual grin.

That grin somehow reassured Castiel. It reminded him of brighter days, when Michael and Lucifer tolerated, even enjoyed the other's presence, when their dad was around and things, while not perfect, were infinitely better than they were now. "Not in the slightest. Both were well-aware that I was meeting or had met with the other. I don't feel as though I should cut myself off from anyone in my family, just because I disagree with them. In fact, it's my belief that now, more than ever, our family should at least try to stand together, as naïve as that seems."

Gabriel felt slightly guilty because that was _exactly_ what he'd done—cut himself off from his family. But he didn't allow himself to feel guilty for very long. "So what did you discuss with them?"

"Several things. It seems they both received an email from Dad—as did I, actually. I would venture a guess that Raphael got one, too. They were identical, or at least contained the same information. Just that he's fine, not to worry about him. He said he'll return when he's ready."

Gabriel nodded slowly, thoughtfully. "Yeah, I got an email like that, too. Video attachment, right? He's always been fond of those."

"If you don't mind, I'd like to watch it."

He gave Castiel a slightly surprised look but nodded. "Yeah, sure. Hang on." He maximized his email window and clicked on the attachment. His brother came around to the other side of the desk as their father's face appeared on the screen.

Just as he had in Castiel's video, Chuck Milligan was smiling. The background was the same, too—just the headboard of a hotel bed and a light-yellow wallpaper. He'd clearly recorded all these videos one right after the other and sent them out at the same time. "Hey, Gabriel. It's Dad." He gave an awkward chuckle. It was almost ridiculous to realize that this man controlled an entire city at every level. "Obviously. I know your brothers and you are all worried about me. I understand completely. But I'm fine. I'll return, too. I just have some things I need to take care of." His face fell a little and his tone grew more serious. He ran his hand over his beard for a moment, his gaze flicking away from the camera, off to his right. He finally sighed and took his glasses off. "Look, Gabe. I know Michael and Lucifer are at each other's throats. I'm aware of what's going on. They've both been in my shadow their whole lives. You and Castiel and Raphael—you guys never had that problem, and for that, I'm grateful.

"So I'm asking you, as one who hasn't completely lost his mind—and I know that Raph is on Mike's side, for whatever reason—please try to hold this family together. Mike and Lu both respect you and I think, with Cas's help, you can manage it. I can't do it myself. One day, I'm not going to be around anymore. So, please. I'm not saying you should try to reason with them or anything. I'm just saying, don't let them rip each other apart." The Milligan patriarch rubbed his eyes and half-smiled. "If anyone can do it, it's you. I believe in you." His smile widened. "I miss you all, okay? I'll be in touch. I love you, Gabriel." A moment later, the feed went black and the video ended.

Gabriel leaned back in his seat and sighed. "Whatever the Hell he's doing, it better be good. This family's going to Hell and he's not doing anything to stop it. What's he _thinking_?"

"He's right, Gabriel. He can't be the one who breaks up every last fight that happens. Don't you think he did it enough when we were kids? It's about time Michael and Lucifer learned to resolve their own differences." Castiel glanced at the screen, where the email was still open. "What he said… it was more than mine said. I'll guess it was more than Michael or Lu or Raphael got, either. How can you disregard something like that? After seeing that, how can you just sit by and let this destruction take place?"

Gabriel groaned, running his fingers through his hair. "Easy. Mikey and Luci aren't going to listen to me. Why even bother? I say, let them fight it out. They've never even smacked each other around before. You know kids roughhouse, but they never did. Maybe if they just punched each other a few times, they'd get over themselves."

Castiel stared at him incredulously. "Gabriel, we're not children anymore!" Unconsciously, he leapt to his feet. "Michael's thirty years old and Lu's going to be twenty-nine in a matter of _days_ —they're not about to just throw a few punches and 'get over themselves.' Yes, they do _act_ like children, but they're not. They're adults with a lot of adult anger pent up and very adult ways of dealing with it. People have died already! People are going to _keep_ dying! Michael's given the order to have someone killed before! Hell, _you've_ done it!" Castiel seemed to deflate a bit as he continued looking at Gabriel. His older brother was merely giving him an unimpressed look. Apparently, he'd already considered this.

"I'm sorry, Cas. But maybe this is what our family deserves. Neither Michael nor Lucifer is really what you'd call 'honorable.' Things can't go back to the way they were—not anymore. I don't want to watch the destruction, but I want it to be over."

Castiel fell back into his seat, regarding his brother with a look of defeat in his eyes. "Alright. So our family's tearing itself apart. Michael flat-out told me that if we stay out of this fight, he'll leave us alone. He said that if we choose to join him, he'll welcome us. He also said that if we join Lu, he'll treat us no better than he would treat Lu. And that's fine. But do you really think that any other family deserves this sentence?"

"Of course not. Watching this is sickening."

"Then this may interest you. As I told you, Dean Winchester is in danger. Lu and Michael both remember his father John Winchester. Dad never did tap him for a favor. Michael knows Dean Winchester works for you, but since you're staying neutral, he feels that Dean would be of better use working for him. And Lu desperately wants Sam on his side. He's in law school, from what I understand, and apparently promises to make an excellent lawyer."

Gabriel scoffed. "Dean won't let his brother get sucked into this life. _I_ haven't even met the kid. There's no way he's gonna let _Lucifer_ get his hands on him. And there's definitely no way he's ever going to side with Michael. See, unlike Mikey and Luci, Dean Winchester actually has a bit of loyalty."

Castiel couldn't help thinking that his brothers had loyalty in spades—Michael was completely devoted to his family, so devoted that he would steamroll anyone who stood against him as he tried to execute what he believed was their father's plan, even his own brother. Lucifer was loyal to their father, the one who hadn't left any actual instructions regarding the situation. No, his brothers were definitely loyal. Just not to each other. "I don't know. They both seem Hell-bent to get to the Winchesters. It may be prudent to brief Dean Winchester so he at least knows what's coming. Zachariah can be very persuasive."

Gabriel's eyes widened even as he fought to remain cool. "Zachariah picked a side? Mike's side?" When Castiel nodded, he groaned. " _Great_. Next you're gonna tell me that Alastair is on his side, too."

Castiel shook his head. "No. He sided with Lu."

"Damn it!" Gabriel slammed his fist on the desk. "Great. Fucking fantastic. So who else is picking sides?"

"Well, obviously, Rachel sided with Michael and Meg sided with Lu."

"Obviously." The women _were_ their wives, after all. Gabriel couldn't even imagine the figurative shit-storm that would rain down if Rachel told Michael she thought Lucifer was right or vice versa with Meg. Then again, both women seemed rather suited to whichever Milligan she'd picked.

"Crowley remains undecided, but—"

"He'll go with Lucifer. Singer's already there."

"Singer? _Bobby_ Singer?" Castiel felt his chest tighten in horror. Bobby Singer had worked for Gabriel. He'd previously thought that the people working for him and for Gabriel would remain neutral, but if Bobby Singer had defected, who was next? "But he—!"

"Is on my orders. Relax," Gabriel said, grinning at his brother's panic. "Balthazar Roché is on Lucifer's side, too. And I have Joanna Harvelle and Ash Payton in Mike's camp. Come on, Cas—your big brother has spies all over. Even though I'm staying out of this, I find it best to get my news from the inside rather than newspapers. I can keep the rest of my people out of the crossfire, and at this point, Michael and Lucifer are so desperate for anyone they can get that they won't suspect. Those four all report to me. They're good people. I trust them." He mentally caught himself and backpedaled to what Castiel had initially said. "But alright. You're right, I suppose. The Winchesters are in a fair bit of danger from our dear, sweet brothers. We need to brief Dean Winchester, especially now that Zachariah's on Michael's side." He shuddered. "I can't even imagine what Alastair would do to Sam Winchester to get him to say yes, but I know it wouldn't be pleasant."

"So what do we do?"

Gabriel rested his elbows on his desk and pressed his fingertips together as he thought. "What do _you_ think we should do? You're the one bringing this to me."

Castiel sighed. "They need to be moved out of the city. You know Michael and Lucifer. They won't let their people rest until they find the Winchesters."

"You said yourself that Sam is in law school right now." Gabriel had already known that. His father had told him.

Nearly six years ago, Chuck had approached him and told him, "I know what you get up to, Gabriel. I know about the contracts. As sad as it sounds, I don't disapprove. So listen. There's a young man—Dean Winchester—who's your age. His father just died. He's already killed someone, and he's trying to atone for it. Can you find a place for him?" And Gabriel had nodded, because you could never have enough cleaners on staff.

"Thank you, Gabriel. Just one more thing—his brother, Sam. He just got accepted into law school. His father had every intention of keeping him away from all of this, and Dean is carrying that on for him. So take care of the Winchesters. Maybe at least one of them will have a normal life." Now Gabriel finally had to make good on that promise. With his brothers involved, he had his work cut out for him.

"Yes, so?" Castiel asked.

"It's the beginning of December. Final exams are coming up. Do you _really_ think he'll want to duck out right before the end of the semester?"

Castiel sighed. "I don't know, Gabriel. Maybe Dean Winchester will have an idea."

He nodded. He certainly had no ideas to speak of, either. At least Castiel had thought of _something_. Gabriel reached for his phone and dialed Winchester's number.

"Mr. Milligan," he said after the first ring.

"Winchester. I need you to come in. When can you be here?"

He could almost see Winchester checking the clock in his car. "Twenty minutes."

That was soon enough, but Gabriel liked to keep his people on their toes. "Make it fifteen."

And Dean Winchester, far too used to his boss to argue, simply said, "Yes, sir. Fifteen minutes."


	7. Chapter 7

Fourteen minutes and some change later, Dean was roaring up behind Gabriel Milligan's office. He climbed out of his car, a pitch-black 1967 Chevy Impala, a gift from his dad who had gotten it from _his_ father, and locked it. At the rear entrance, he typed in the ten-digit security key and the door buzzed to let him in. He walked down the stainless-steel hallway and to Tony Baldur's desk. "Hey," he said easily. "Mr. Milligan is expecting me."

Tony nodded, and Dean waited patiently for him to open the door to Milligan's office. It was the same protocol every time. Gabriel Milligan's preoccupation with security was nowhere near on the same level as his older brothers' (which bordered on paranoia), but he was still very cautious, which was probably why, even after working for this family for nine years—the last six for Gabriel specifically—Dean still didn't know much about them. Before working for Gabriel, he'd worked for Chuck. Still, for the longest time, Dean only knew that Chuck had five sons and that three were named Michael, Raphael, and Gabriel. He didn't know about the other two. He didn't even meet Gabriel until he was twenty-one, and he'd met Raphael and another Milligan named Lucifer later. He'd never even seen Michael, and he had no idea about the last one. But it had never really bothered him—the less he knew about the Milligans, the better. Even though Gabriel Milligan was a halfway decent guy sometimes and his father was fairly nice, his brothers were assholes and he wanted nothing to do with them.

After John died, Chuck moved him to work with his son, which ended up giving him a hefty pay bump, but it had taken him a few months to get used to the work. He'd learned to shelve his emotions when it came to killing people, reminding himself that every single person he eliminated was evil and deserved what they got. David, the man he'd executed a few days before, had been a serial rapist. He _definitely_ had it coming.

But being called in like this, especially on his day off, was unusual. He accepted it without comment, but he was puzzled. Gabriel never called him in unless it was an emergency. He wondered what was going on, but assumed he would find out soon enough.

"You can head in," Tony said, coming back out of the office. Dean nodded his thanks and went in, shutting the door behind him.

He saw Gabriel Milligan right away but sensed another presence, too. Before he could even look, Gabriel was saying, "Winchester, thanks for coming in. This is my brother Castiel."

Dean finally turned his head to look, and for a few long moments, he couldn't breathe. _Oh._ This was Castiel Milligan, the youngest of the Milligan brothers. He had expected the last Milligan to be similar to his brothers—even though he wasn't really sure what that meant. Maybe he expected seeing a cold gleam in his eyes, like the one he'd seen in Lucifer's eyes and Raphael's eyes, like the look that could easily slide onto Gabriel's face when he was angry. But there was nothing cold in Castiel's gaze at all. Those blue eyes held nothing but light. For whatever reason, this man was nothing like any of his brothers, and it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

_That's the boss's brother_ , he reminded himself sharply. Pulling himself back together, he extended his hand toward Castiel. "Dean Winchester. It's good to meet you, Mr. Milligan."

"Hello, Dean. You can just call me Cas," the younger man said, shaking Dean's hand. His voice was low and soothing, almost hypnotic, and Dean felt himself melt a little. He couldn't shake the feeling that he'd seen Castiel before even though he knew it was impossible. He'd definitely remember seeing this man. He was impossible to forget. Castiel's eyes never left Dean's face and he wondered what he was looking at. As Dean finally tore his own gaze from Castiel, he could have sworn that the other man licked his lips.

"So, Cas," Gabriel said, his tone strangely light. Dean recognized the expression in his voice. Something had highly amused Milligan. "Want to explain to Mr. Winchester why we're all here? I think you could explain it better than I could."

Castiel looked suddenly taken aback, but he nodded as he sat down. Gabriel took a seat, too, so Dean followed their lead and took the only available chair, the one right next to Castiel's.

"Alright," Castiel said. He swallowed and slowly, tentatively, started speaking. "I'm not sure how familiar you are with the situation my family is currently dealing with, but my two oldest brothers are having a bit of a…" He furrowed his brow, attempting to come up with an appropriate term, but Gabriel cut him off.

"They're having a catfight," he said lazily.

"That's not the word I would have used, but I suppose it's accurate. They're fighting and it's stupid, but it can't be stopped anymore. Well, I suppose it _could_ be, but my father apparently won't return any time in the foreseeable future, so…"

"Wait," Dean broke in. "I heard about this. This whole fight with your brothers is because your dad is gone?"

The amusement faded out of Gabriel's eyes. They seemed almost metallic. "My father was the only thing keeping the peace between Michael and Lucifer for as long as it happened. It didn't help that when he left, he didn't leave instructions. Now Michael is convinced he's doing what Dad would have wanted, and Lucifer thinks Michael's being a self-righteous jackass. In a normal family, this would be a small, contained problem. Unfortunately, though, it's our family. This problem has spread throughout the whole city. That's what happens when the head of a city disappears and doesn't leave a plan and just hopes for the best. Two very powerful, very angry overgrown children are going to fight."

"So why did he leave?"

Castiel and Gabriel exchanged glances. "We're not positive," Gabriel said slowly, "but we're pretty sure it's to teach us a lesson. See, Michael and Lucifer have always had this problem. Every time they have a dispute, they bring it to our dad for him to sort out. I guess he finally got sick of it and decided he wasn't going to do it anymore. I can appreciate the sentiment, but he didn't have to fucking leave to get the point across," he concluded bitterly.

"Okay, so what does any of this have to do with me?"

Gabriel looked at Castiel, who sighed. "I had lunch with Lu yesterday and a meeting with Michael earlier today. It seems they both have their eye on a secret weapon to help tip the scales in their favor, and they're both planning to stop at nothing to get it."

"And?"

"Well, the short version is, Michael wants you, and Lucifer wants your brother Sam."

"No," Dean said immediately. He leapt to his feet and turned toward Gabriel Milligan. "Hell, no. With all due respect, you and your brothers can all go fuck yourselves! Sam's not going anywhere near—"

"Calm the fuck down," Gabriel snapped. "Sit down, Winchester. If you'd just keep your pants on for five seconds and fucking _listen_ , you'd realize that _we_ are not the ones you should be yelling at." He was on his feet now as well, looking livid. Even though he was a solid five inches shorter than Dean, there was an authority in his voice that couldn't be ignored. It drained all the fight out of him and Dean obediently sat back down.

"Listen," Gabriel growled, still standing. "Castiel didn't have to come here. He could have heard what Michael and Lucifer were planning for you and your brother and just let it happen. You remember Zachariah?"

Dean's eyes widened at the name. Yes, he _definitely_ remembered Zachariah. That temper had never been turned on him, but he knew it wasn't pretty.

Gabriel barreled on. "Well, he's on Michael's side, and if you say no to him, I can pretty much guarantee that Zach won't make it pleasant for you. And there's this other guy named Alastair on Lucifer's side. He comes from the same school as Zachariah, and you can bet he won't make it easy for Sam to say no to Lucifer. But you know what? Cas, who didn't even know you or your brother, came here to warn you. To _help_ you. He doesn't want to see your family ripped apart like ours is. So before you go jumping to conclusions and assuming we're just about to hand you and your brother over to Michael and Lucifer just because they're _our_ brothers, you need to take a fucking minute and listen."

Dean swallowed hard and nodded. It wasn't often that Gabriel got angry, but when he did, he was truly a force to be reckoned with. His eyes took on a hard, angry glint, and you could almost see the fire behind him. He looked to be about a foot taller than he was, especially if he was yelling while he was standing and you were sitting. It was a little intimidating.

But now Gabriel seemed to be shrinking. The rage had subsided, and he finally sat back down. He didn't grin again, but he no longer looked angry. He merely appeared bored.

Dean chanced a glance at Castiel, who was staring determinedly at the floor. He looked exhausted, and Dean immediately felt pity and a wave of guilt. Gabriel was right—Castiel _hadn't_ known him, knew nothing about him except his name, and he didn't know Sam. But he'd still realized what his brothers were doing was fucked-up and come to Gabriel to warn him. A near-total stranger had gone out of his way to help him. "I'm sorry," he murmured.

Gabriel glanced at Castiel, an indication for him to continue. The younger man nodded subtly. "Anyway, Dean, we wanted to help you, to keep you and your brother away from Michael and Lucifer."

"Why do they want us, anyway?"

Castiel heaved a sigh. "Lu knows your brother is going to make a brilliant lawyer. He knows there's a power in words, in the law. He wants that. And Michael… Well, Michael didn't specify, but he said something about your skills being useful to him. Skills that are apparently being wasted working for Gabriel."

Gabriel rolled his eyes, but Dean gripped the armrest of his chair in an attempt to keep calm. Michael wanted his _skills_? Contracted execution was a _skill_ now? He had no qualms about killing monsters. But innocent people who'd only chosen the wrong side? There was no way he could win like this. "But _why_?" he asked, not knowing how to ask what he wanted to know. "I mean, there's other people like us in this city—lawyers, hired guns. So why _us_?"

"It's because of your father," Gabriel said after a moment. "I don't know if you'd remember this, but my dad found a job for him twenty-something years ago, after your mother died. Well, our father never called on him to return the favor before your father died. I'm guessing my brothers remembered that bit of information and decided they wanted to cash in with you and your brother. They probably liked the symmetry of it, too—both of our fathers are gone, and it's their sons' turn now. Your family owes my family a favor. Something like that." Gabriel shrugged. "Both Michael and Lucifer have a flair for the dramatic."

Castiel chuckled softly, a smile that could almost be called fond on his face. Gabriel was right, of course. Both of his oldest brothers could be rather theatric—Lucifer more so than Michael, but the eldest Milligan son had his moments, too. He'd once stayed awake for forty-eight hours straight with video proof just to prove a point (the point being, "Of course I can stay awake for forty-eight hours straight!"). The fact that Michael and Lucifer both appreciated the parallels of their situations was evidence that they were more alike than either cared to admit. And the fact that they _were_ alike was the problem—they would never be able to be as close as they were fifteen years ago because of how similar they'd grown.

"Okay. So your brothers are Hell-bent to get to me and Sam. What do we do? Wage war, hide, what?"

"Okay, here, I'm operating under the assumption that you want to survive this whole mess," Gabriel said. "Fighting against them would be a very bad idea. Right now, this is basically just the four of us against Michael and Lucifer's armies. Michael gave Cas here an ultimatum. If we stay uninvolved, he'll leave us alone. If we subvert him or if he even _thinks_ we're working to undermine him, he's basically going to hunt us down like he plans on doing with Lucifer. You can pretty much bet that Lucifer feels the same way about us working with Michael. So we're pretty much stuck with some less-than-obvious tactics. Hiding is a better choice, but if we're going to do that, we have to leave Celestial City. Michael and Lucifer have spies everywhere. If we hid you guys in the city, they'd find you."

Dean had to admit that Gabriel had a point. Still, the idea of leaving Celestial City was daunting, and Sam wouldn't like it either. "Sam's in school," he said softly. "He's got exams coming up in like two weeks. We can't just leave."

"Look, I'm not saying decide now, okay? You probably have a couple of days before you really have to worry about Zachariah or Alastair coming after you or your brother. But you need to talk to Sam about it. I don't know what you've told him about this family—"

"Not much. Dad wanted Sam to stay as far away from you guys as possible."

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Fair enough. But whatever you do, you have to make him understand the danger you're both in. Michael and Lucifer are not to be taken lightly. They're… they're dangerous."

Dean nodded. He remembered the single time he'd met Lucifer Milligan. Being around him was unnerving. When he spoke, he was velvet-smooth and it was next to impossible not to be swayed to agree with whatever he was swaying. His charisma lent itself to an indescribable amount of control over the people who were around him. It was quite easy to understand how dangerous _he_ was.

He couldn't help wondering just how similar Michael was to him. Did he have the same silver tongue, or was he persuasive through other means? It was a chilling thought. He hadn't missed the subtle jump that Castiel had given when he'd used the term "hired guns." Was it possible that Castiel Milligan didn't know the extent of what his brothers did? What if he had no idea at all?

_That_ seemed unlikely, since he found Michael and Lucifer's threats dangerous enough to tell Gabriel, but the likelihood of his not understanding what exactly they were capable was pretty high.

"Alright. I'll talk to him tonight." Dean sighed. "Did you need to tell me anything else, or can I go? I have a lot to think over."

"No, that's it. Just… watch yourself, okay? No promises that my brothers will wait to make a move."

Dean nodded, standing up. "Thanks for the heads-up." His gaze locked with Castiel's, and he felt the air whoosh out of his chest. The youngest Milligan was looking at him with an expression that was so worried and concerned, it was disconcerting. He had no right to look at Dean like that, someone he'd known for years was about to head into battle, but he was. Dean swallowed and summoned his voice. "Thanks, Cas," he said softly.

"You're welcome, Dean."

He couldn't get out of Gabriel Milligan's office fast enough. Castiel's blue eyes were making his heart race and he wasn't sure he didn't like it.

* * *

The next morning, Chuck stumbled out of bed and grabbed an apple from the fridge. He ate it on the balcony just off his living room, staring up at the sky. He was terribly homesick and he missed his boys, but he couldn't go home. Not just yet.

He went to his computer and checked his email—only his personal account. He'd deactivated all of his business accounts when he'd arrived. He was surprised but pleased to see an email from Gabriel waiting in his inbox. He clicked it and a video message popped up, putting a smile on his face.

It was Gabriel and—his heart skipped a beat—Castiel was next to him. They appeared to be in Gabriel's office; they were both smiling. As the video started playing, Gabriel waved enthusiastically at the camera.

"Hey, Dad! I got Cas here, so I figured we'd send you a little something."

Castiel waved dutifully, a laugh threatening to burst from his lips. "Hello, Dad."

Chuck's smile widened and he felt tears start to sting his eyes.

"Look, Dad, I know you asked me to try to hold the family together while you're gone. I'm gonna do my best, okay? Cas here's gonna help me. We're working on something right now, actually. No promises, but… Well, like I said, we're gonna do the best we can. Just try to come home soon, okay? Everything sucks right now, and Lucifer's birthday's in a few days."

Chuck was acutely aware of this. He'd missed Michael's birthday in September. Unless something changed soon, he was probably going to miss Gabriel's in February. He just hoped he was back before Raphael's birthday in April. He hated not being home, but he'd already been gone for six months. It was a little easier by now.

"So, just… I don't know, Dad." Gabriel half-smiled. "I love you."

"I hope you're well, Dad. Take care, and let us know if you need anything at all," Castiel said. "I love you."

Even though he knew his sons couldn't hear him, he still murmured, "I love you, too." The video cut out and Chuck leaned back in his chair and sighed, running his fingers through his hair. Whenever he finally came home, it wouldn't be soon enough.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads-up, Jess is NOT in character as per Supernatural canon. We didn't see her much in the show, but I guarantee she was not like this. This was intentional.

Michael had grown entirely too familiar with this window. It looked out into his backyard, and for several minutes, he could easily imagine two or three children of his playing in the snow. Maybe he or Rachel would be playing with them, or their uncle Raphael. He allowed himself a half-smile as he contemplated it, even though his chest tightened uncomfortably.

There was something special about looking at your child, he imagined, and seeing something of you in them or something from their other parent. It was a sure sign that your child was definitely yours. But adopting wasn't a terrible idea at all. No matter how much he wanted a child of his own, two of his own brothers had been adopted, and they were currently the only ones on speaking terms with him.

Bitterness rose up inside him at that thought. Why was it that Castiel and Raphael were the only ones who appreciated his situation? Lucifer had turned his back on him and Gabriel had turned his back on _everyone_. He couldn't understand why any of his brothers would turn away from their family.

A pair of arms slid around his waist from behind and he jumped a bit, startled.

"Sorry," Rachel murmured into his neck, resting her head against his back.

"It's alright," he said. He ran his fingers over her arms and felt another smile cross his face.

"I thought you heard the door close," she added softly.

"I've been a little preoccupied." He turned in her arms so he could look at her. Smiling at her tenderly, he brushed a few stray strands of hair away from her face. "How are you feeling, darling?"

She offered him a smile. "I've felt worse. Today hasn't been so bad."

"Good." He pressed a kiss to her forehead and cupped her face, running his thumbs over her cheeks.

"Didn't someone come by today?"

"Yes. Castiel was here."

"I'm sorry I missed him, then. It's been awhile since I saw him last. How has he been?"

"I didn't know you were feeling up to seeing anyone today, or I would have brought him to see you. He's been doing well, though. As well as can be expected, I guess. He saw Lucifer yesterday," he added with a tinge of bitterness in his voice.

"How was that?"

He mentally deliberated how much to say. Rachel was easily exhausted and any bad news could have her retreating back to bed for days. "He didn't really say. Just that both of them had heard from Dad and so did Raphael."

"Mm." Rachel rested her head on Michael's shoulder and wrapped her arms around him a little tighter. "I miss him, too."

"Who? Raphael?"

She shook her head lightly. "No. Your dad. Besides, you're so stressed-out all the time and it's because he's gone. If he were here, you wouldn't be wound so tight."

Michael let out a brief, soft laugh. "Yes, I think you're right." He rubbed her back for a few moments and she let out a contented hum. With Rachel in his arms, the world easily melted away. He forgot about his father being gone, his brothers' betrayal, the near-war in the streets. He remembered who he was at his core was Rachel's husband, and that gave him strength. "I love you, darling," he whispered into her hair.

He could almost feel her smiling into his neck. "I love you, too, Michael."

* * *

"Well, looks like it's a great time to be a law student," Jess said quietly as she looked around quickly. She had to make sure there were no librarians within earshot. "I mean, did you see the paper this morning?"

"I can't believe how many people are completely losing their shit," Anna agreed in an undertone. "Chuck Milligan is gonna come back eventually. I mean, he has to. Right?" She sounded worried, though.

Sam didn't really know what to say to them. Out of the three of them, he should have been the most informed on the subject, but he certainly wasn't. He was just hoping that, whatever was going on, Dean was far away from it. From the sound of it, Michael and Lucifer's conflict was escalating daily. It wouldn't be much longer before one of them snapped.

"I don't know. It's been six months. I don't think he cares about what's happening here anymore," Jess said. "Besides, if he really cared, why did he leave in the first place? He wouldn't have just left us if he was still concerned."

"Doesn't it strike you as odd how a whole city basically collapsed just because one man left, though?" Sam asked abruptly. "It seems to me like there's something bigger going on."

"Like what?" Anna asked.

"I don't know, okay? Just… It seems to me like this shouldn't have happened. Maybe it's a test, and we're failing. Maybe the longer we fail, the longer Chuck Milligan stays away."

"Or maybe he just doesn't give a shit anymore," Jess said.

Anna chewed on a fingernail for a moment. "Well, I don't know about you two, but I'm feeling like I want to just take the finals now. I don't feel safe coming here anymore. With people choosing sides, it's like the neutral ones are the ones who are going to get stampeded first. It doesn't seem like it'll be too much longer before someone wakes me up in the middle of the night with a gun to my head and says, 'Pick a side,' and if I choose wrong, I die." She sighed and looked at her watch. "Look, I gotta go. Jo's picking me up any minute."

"Alright, see you," Jess said.

"Good luck," Sam added.

Anna swung her backpack over her shoulders, waved her farewell to her two friends, and headed out of the library, dodging tables she could, by now, navigate with her eyes closed. The three of them had been coming here for three years to study and all the librarians were used to them by now. She was used to seeing familiar faces everywhere, but this afternoon, the library seemed emptier than usual. She shivered as she waited outside, a reaction that had nothing to do with the cold.

A dark-red beat-up Toyota pulled up in front of her, and she immediately climbed into the passenger's seat. "Hey, Jo," she said with feigned brightness to the blonde in the driver's seat.

"Hey," she answered. She picked up Anna's hand and brought it to her lips. "I just got a call from my boss. He wanted me to ask you… How's Sam Winchester doing?"

* * *

Jessica left shortly after Anna did. Sam stayed later to do a little more review for his Current Events class, but he was interrupted when his phone buzzed, alerting him to a new email. He checked the miniature screen, but it was simply a video attachment with no message from an email address he didn't recognize. Every instinct he had told him to just delete it or ignore it, but the subject line read, "Open this message, Sam."

So against his better judgment, he went to the computer room in the back of the library, claimed a cubicle, and pulled up the email on the computer.

 _Oh, fuck._ He recognized the handsome, smirking face that filled the screen even before the man said, "Hello, Sam Winchester. I'm Lu Milligan."

"Fuck," Sam muttered. How the Hell did this guy find him? Dean was supposed to be keeping him away from these assholes!

Milligan went on, oblivious to Sam's dark glare. "As I'm sure you're aware, your brother Dean works for _my_ brother Gabriel. I'm also sure you're wondering why I'm telling you this, because we both know this. Well, in the simplest of terms, I know where your brother is going to be at all times. He has a very dangerous job, Sammy. He may not have told you that. But he does. Something very bad could happen to him quite easily." Still smirking, Lucifer Milligan gave an exaggerated shrug. "Who knows what might happen to him someday?"

Sam gritted his teeth. No one but Dean was allowed to call him "Sammy," but the nickname dropped too easily from Milligan's mouth.

"Now, talking about your brother is fun and everything, but I had something else to discuss with you. Specifically, you. You're in law school, and according to every report I've received, you're one of the best students your school has ever seen. Quite impressive, Sammy. I approve. You are just the kind of person I need working for me." Milligan was still smirking, but there was something warm glowing behind those previously cold blue eyes. "So my offer is this: meet with me and we'll discuss in person the terms of your employment with me. Excellent pay and benefits, better than anything else you'll find in this city, insane luxury that you haven't even dreamed of, and big brother stays perfectly safe." His voice dropped to a low murmur in a tone that could almost be called seductive, and Sam unconsciously leaned closer to the screen. "Keep in mind, Sammy. I want you. And I _always_ get what I want."

The video ended with Milligan leaning back in the high-backed leather chair he occupied, his face still twisted in that arrogant smirk. Sam swallowed hard and closed out of the email.

He'd respond at home. This wasn't the place for it.

* * *

The silence in the office was deafening. Michael ran his fingers through his hair once and looked up.

Across from his desk, in a place not many people saw, was an old painting. It was twenty-seven years old, actually. It contained five people—actually, six, but one couldn't be seen. It was his father and his mother standing there, both with wide smiles on their faces. His mother's arms were full of a six-month-old Raphael, who—if Michael recalled correctly—had only been part of the family for a few weeks. Lucifer was sitting on his father's hip unsmilingly. He'd always been the contrary child. Michael stood between his mother and father on a raised platform, smiling like he owned the world. It was almost impossible to tell from the painting, but their mother had been five months pregnant with Gabriel at the time.

Looking at that portrait filled him with both sadness and a twisted sort of happiness, and for the same reason. It reminded him of the days before the fighting started, back when Lucifer respected him, back when everything was brighter. Things had never been perfect—his mother would have had to be alive for that—but they were better. Now, he didn't even have his father to talk to.

"Dubai," he murmured. Louder, he said, "Eve, play Metric."

"Yes, sir," his computer answered. A moment later, the familiar sounds of a song called "Help I'm Alive" filled the room and he closed his eyes. He wasn't convinced the program didn't have a sense of humor installed in it, because he was sure it could sense how he was feeling from his voice and queued songs that played off it.

Dubai. His father had chartered a plane to Dubai, but he hadn't gotten off.

No. He _had_ to have gotten off. He'd sent his video from a hotel room. Somehow, no one had noticed him. No security camera had picked him up. He had friends all over, so maybe that shouldn't have surprised him.

His father had to come back soon or something drastic would happen. He could feel it.

He dialed Raphael's number. As expected, his brother picked up on the first ring. "Michael?"

"Raphael. Tell me, who did the check at the airport for Dad?"

"That was Uriel and Benny."

"Tell them to pack their bags and get on the next flight to Dubai. I can't wait for Dad to come back anymore. We need to find him."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"Raphael, listen. He got off that damn plane somewhere. He got by everything somehow. But he is in Dubai. Someone's seen him. So send Uriel and Benny to go find him. It's possible he may not understand what's happening here."

Raphael was silent for a few moments. "Alright, Mike. I hope you know what you're doing."

 _Yeah. Me, too._ He hung up and sighed, trying to lose himself in the music. Was he doing the right thing?

He had to be. Dad was needed here. Michael was doing what was best for the whole city, not just his family.

But it could take weeks, even months before they found his father. Things wouldn't remain in this stasis forever. Lucifer was sure to make his move on Sam Winchester soon, which meant he had to hunt down Dean Winchester _now_ , and if Gabriel wouldn't give him up, there were other ways of locating him.

He picked up his phone again and called Zachariah.

"Mr. Milligan, what can I do for you?"

"I need you to come into my office immediately. I have a job for you that I need to explain in person."

"Give me thirty minutes."

* * *

Lucifer's computer trilled and he pinched the bridge of his nose. He had a splitting headache already, and the din from the main floor of the casino wasn't helping, either. Even with the doors to his office closed, he could still hear the laughter and electronic music from the adult arcade. He made a mental note to have his office soundproofed soon and opened the email.

It wasn't from Sam Winchester, he noted with a small amount of disappointment. But when he saw who it _was_ from, he raised an eyebrow.

_Sir, your brother has sent us to Dubai to locate your father. I will remain uninformed with his workings until such time as we return. I will, however, keep you updated on how the search for your father is going. In the meantime, I've also been informed that Michael has sent someone to recruit Dean Winchester to his side._

"Hmm." Lucifer wasn't sure what to make of this news—either his agent's dispatch to Dubai, or Michael's plan to drag Dean Winchester over to his side. Certainly the latter put an interesting spin on his proposal to Sam Winchester and just gave him more incentive to make sure some harm came to Dean Winchester if need be. But he didn't like the idea of Michael being the one to find their father and bring him home. He wondered if any of their other brothers knew about this. After all, their father had made it clear that he didn't want to be found. In fact, he'd basically told them not to contact him at all.

Michael's sheer fucking arrogance was grating on his last nerves. Who the Hell was _he_ to ignore their father's orders after specifically saying he thought it was their father's will that _he_ take control? That asshole was the world's biggest hypocrite.

Good thing Lucifer never bought into the whole "following Daddy's plan" thing. He picked up his phone and paged Balthazar Roché. He'd been a defector from Gabriel's side, and one that he was quite happy to have.

"Yes, sir?"

"Call Fergus Crowley and Merrick Azazel. Tell them to pack up. They're going to Dubai."

* * *

"Shit," Gabriel muttered.

"What?"

"Just got a message from Ash. Michael's sending two people to Dubai to hunt for Dad."

"Who's he sending?" Castiel asked anxiously.

"It looks like Benny Robertson and Uriel Harris. And— _shit_!" Gabriel nearly slammed his fist on the desk. "Got a message from Bobby. Lucifer heard about that and he's sending Fergus Crowley and Merrick Azazel to find Dad as well."

Castiel's eyes widened in something akin to panic. "Why is he sending Azazel? He's—"

"I know, he's a monster. I have no idea. But Benny and Uriel aren't the nicest guys, either, but Mikey still saw fit to send them. Okay, Ash tells me that Benny and Uriel's flight doesn't leave for another two hours. Crowley and Azazel are heading out tomorrow. I guess Michael got enough of a jump on Lucifer, so he has about a day's head start. Ash is setting up the travel plan for them—hotels, rental cars, meals, whatever else—and it's looking like Bobby's doing the same for Lucifer's guys. This is a goddamn nightmare," Gabriel muttered. "Didn't Dad pretty much order us to leave him alone? And then Michael has the audacity to—"

"We can't let them go alone."

"What?"

"Michael and Lucifer's agents. We can't let it just be them who try to find Dad."

"Cas, we can't just… Look, I'm all for helping the Winchesters, but don't you think that sending our own people is going to be seen as an act of war to those two? I thought we were trying to _avoid_ this."

"The four that they're sending, they're not persuasive. They're mean, sure, but you know Dad doesn't respond to that. If… if we have a chance of bringing Dad home, we need to send people who know how to be polite."

"Cas, are you not even listening to me? Dad told us to _not look for him_."

"If we let Michael or Lucifer locate him, he may decide to stay away longer. And, okay, maybe sending people to look for Dad is a mistake, but we should send someone to try to throw off their dispatches, don't you think?" Castiel asked pointedly.

Gabriel opened and closed his mouth several times before he started laughing. "Are you sure you're my brother? You sneaky little bastard. I see what you're saying. And if they just _happen_ to find Dad and just _happen_ to talk him into coming back, no big deal then, right?"

Castiel smiled and nodded. "Right. If anything, we're trying to help Dad out. Keep him protected."

"Alright, Cas. Who did you have in mind?"

The younger Milligan thought for a moment. "Inias and Samandriel. They work together well and I'm certain of their loyalty."

"And loyalty counts for a lot right now," Gabriel murmured. "Alright, send them. Just tell them to avoid Michael and Lucifer's goons—especially Lucifer's; those two are real pieces of work—for as long as possible."


	9. Chapter 9

"Dean?" Sam called out the moment he got back to their apartment. He hadn't seen the Impala in the parking lot, but it was possible that he'd just missed it somehow. It was a distinctive car, but he'd done dumber things before.

But no answer greeted him. Dean wasn't home yet. That was… well, he wasn't sure if it was good or bad. It was definitely unusual, because he was typically home by now. Sam couldn't help wondering if, maybe, Lucifer Milligan had just gone ahead and abducted his brother preemptively.

_Wouldn't he have said something, though?_ Surely if Milligan had made a move on Dean, he would have sent Sam another message. Then again, maybe not. So far, his tactics had been psychological. The not knowing was definitely killing him, which was probably what Lucifer Milligan wanted. He was all about the mind games, it seemed.

He wasn't shallow enough to be tempted with the promises of luxury or wealth. He'd lived pretty much his whole life barely above the poverty line—the fact that he and Dean were able to afford college for him was thanks to scholarships he'd gotten and Dean being as well-paid as he was, but just about every cent that he earned went to pay for Sam's school. He was used to just barely getting by, and for right now, it was fine.

But he didn't like the thought of Milligan hurting Dean. There was something incredibly dark and predatory in the smirk on Lucifer Milligan's face as he threatened Dean. He was undoubtedly a man who knew how to make it happen.

And Gabriel Milligan was apparently in on this. Sam was laughably ill-informed on the whole family, it appeared, because he hadn't known anything about Dean's employers. He'd wanted it that way, but now he realized just how stupid burying his head in the sand really was. Expecting to be left out of this fight just because he wanted it that way was a mistake, too. Hell, they should have just gotten out of Celestial City after their dad died. There had been no reason for either of them to stay. There were other schools in other cities, places where Dean could have had a life of his own and stayed safe, where Sam could have studied law and made something of himself. But that was irrelevant now.

Dean had spent his whole life protecting Sam. Maybe now it was time to return the favor.

Sam considered sending a video message back to Lucifer Milligan, but decided against it. Maybe he already knew what he looked like, but if he didn't for whatever reason, Sam didn't want to give him that. Even if he was going to meet with him, he didn't have to trust him—and Sam _definitely_ didn't trust him. Besides, he was in his usual jeans and plaid button-down shirt, and Milligan had been wearing a suit. He wasn't sure why, but he was uncomfortable with showing just how casually he dressed, like that somehow made Milligan better than him.

_Mr. Milligan,_

_Okay. I'll meet with you. When and where?_

_\- SW_

He sent off his message and waited for a reply.

* * *

It had been months, almost a year, since Michael made the comment about his methods, and Lucifer was still seething. It was like Michael somehow thought that racketeering and extortion were more moral than running a casino with an occasional drug deal in the back.

Okay, maybe more than an _occasional_ drug deal. But at least his own people weren't being hurt in the process. His own people didn't fear for their lives. No, Lucifer preferred psychological torture to physical injury and murder. A wise man once said, "Why use your fists when words will do? There's a time for talking… and there's a time for kicking somebody's ass," and they were words by which he lived. Sometimes, killing someone was necessary, but for the most part, he found that words caused far greater and more lasting damage than brass knuckles and guns.

Forgiveness wasn't in his nature, so maybe it shouldn't have surprised him that he was still angry at Michael. But maybe it was his brother's sheer hypocrisy that made the slight sting the way it did. Michael climbed up on his pedestal and preached about _his_ methods, _his_ people, _his_ behavior, and then he had the gall to turn around and extort their father's people. At least Lucifer had the decency not to lie. Sure, he got money out of people, but they willingly parted with it. And he killed rarely—it was better not to have the reputation of a common thug, while still convincing people that his threats weren't empty.

His computer trilled and he rolled his eyes. _What now?_ he wondered. But then he grinned when he saw who the email was from. Sam Winchester finally answered, it seemed.

He read through Sam's short, nigh-curt message and chuckled to himself. Threatening Dean worked better than he'd expected. Sam took the bait immediately.

The next day was Friday. It would be a good time to meet with him and let him have the weekend to think it over. The weekend was unnecessary, because Sam Winchester _would_ say yes to him, but the beautiful illusion of choice was one of his favorites. Why torture someone yourself when they could do it better themselves?

_Sammy, how about tomorrow for lunch? Noon at Armageddon downtown. I'll have a table waiting in the back._

_\- LM_

* * *

Lucifer Milligan replied to his email much sooner than he expected. He had honestly anticipated waiting for several hours at the least for an answer. It was a little unnerving, actually.

He bit his lip after reading the message. Lunch? He couldn't have lunch with this guy. He had a class that got out at noon and the next one started an hour later. There wouldn't be nearly enough time for him to go downtown, have lunch with Milligan, and make it back to class.

And then there was that "Sammy" thing. He wouldn't say so via email, but if Lucifer called him "Sammy" to his face tomorrow, he would tell him not to. Probably.

_Mr. Milligan, I can't make lunch tomorrow because of classes. My last class ends at 3:00._

_\- SW_

He wished Dean were here right now. Then he wouldn't be so paranoid that Lucifer had kidnapped him to use as leverage. It was a very troubling prospect, but he told himself not to panic until it got to be much later. It was supposed to be Dean's day off today, but he could still be out and completely safe for whatever reason.

He barely noticed when the next reply came in. When he finally did see it, though, he wasn't sure what to make of it.

_Sammy, how about 3:30 then? Will that give you enough time to get downtown?_

_\- LM_

It would, so against his better judgment, he answered, _3:30 is fine_.

Ten seconds after he hit _send_ , the front door to the apartment opened and he heard Dean call, "Sam?"

"Dean!" _Jesus._ It appeared that he was wrong. Lucifer _hadn't_ abducted his brother. It was both a relief and a sudden worry. Without even doing anything Lucifer Milligan had him looking over his shoulder. He knew the man was capable of a lot, but now…

"Sam, we have to talk."

"Y-yeah. I know."

As Dean appeared in the doorway to Sam's room, the look on his face could only accurately described as freaked-out. "Shit. What happened? Did you get kicked out of school or something?"

Sam shook his head. "I almost wish that was the case, though. No, I think your boss—Gabriel Milligan, right?—is putting us in danger."

Dean's eyes widened a fraction. "Sam, I never told you who I work for. How did you find out?"

Sam glanced down at his desk for a moment. "Lucifer Milligan sent me a video message. He—"

" _Fuck!_ " Dean just barely restrained himself from punching a hole through Sam's door. He thought they'd have a little more time than this! What happened to having a few days? "Sam, what did he say?" he demanded.

"He said he wanted to hire me, Dean. And he…" Sam sighed. "He threatened you. He said that because you work for his brother, he always knows where you are. He basically said that, if he asked, your boss would turn you over to him."

Dean let out an impressive string of curses before calming down. Still looking angry, he sat down on the edge of Sam's bed and shook his head. "Gabriel Milligan is not involved with the shit that's going down right now. It's all Michael and Lucifer. Gabriel is staying _out_ of it. And—fuck, Sammy, what else did he say? Is that it?"

"No. He-he said he wanted to meet with me to discuss the terms of this job offer."

"Sammy, please. Please tell me you didn't say yes." Dean's eyes were wide and Sam wished he could do what he was pleading, but it would be a lie.

"Dean, he… he threatened to hurt you. I couldn't just… I'm sorry, Dean."

"Son of a bitch," Dean muttered. "Well," he said, louder now, "this is what I wanted to talk to you about, actually. I guess you know this now, but Lucifer Milligan wants you to work for him. Well, Michael Milligan wants me to work for him. Remember how I said that all this crap that's happening right now is because of those two?"

Sam nodded.

"Basically, they want to use us as weapons. Lucifer wants a good lawyer and Michael wants… someone that can scare people into doing what he wants. And the only reason I know any of this is because the youngest one, Castiel, he came to my boss Gabriel today with this information."

"Why us, though? How did we even get on their radar?"

"What, are you serious?" When Sam nodded again, Dean shot him an incredulous look. "It's because of Dad. When Chuck Milligan got that job for Dad, it was basically a contract that said he'd be asked to do a favor for the Milligans since Chuck did us a favor. Apparently, the contract was still unfulfilled when Dad died, so Michael and Lucifer decided that the honor of paying back that debt fell to us. And now I'm pretty sure that Michael knows Lucifer's trying to get you and Lucifer probably knows that Michael wants me. Neither of us are safe anymore, Sam." Dean let out an exasperated groan. "And you agreed to meet the son of a bitch! What were you thinking?"

Sam shot him a bitchface. "Dean, I didn't know anything about that! All I know about what's happening is what I read in the papers! You never told me _anything_!"

"Yeah, because that's how you wanted it! We were both happy with you staying as uninvolved as possible, okay? It wasn't just me—it was a group effort!" He sighed. "And look where it got us. Okay, we need to come up with a plan. When did you say you were going to meet him?"

"Tomorrow at three-thirty. At Armageddon."

Dean inhaled sharply and closed his eyes. Sam could tell he was trying to contain himself, but it wasn't quite working. He still looked plenty pissed-off. "Damn it, Sam," he muttered. "Why would you do that?"

"He threatened you, Dean! I thought… maybe he already had you. I didn't know what to do."

"You never called me to see if I was in trouble. If you had just called me, I would have told you I was fine."

"Look, I'm sorry, alright? I just panicked. I didn't know what else to do. You weren't here when I got home and you usually are, so…" Sam shrugged helplessly, and Dean sighed.

"Alright. That video he sent you—did you delete it?"

"No, I still have it."

"Let me see it."

Sam hesitantly pulled it up and leaned back so as not to obstruct Dean's view. He wasn't sure how he felt about letting him watch it. It felt personal, almost like a message from a lover. He reminded himself that it wasn't the case—Lucifer only wanted him to work for him, and he was married anyway, wasn't he?—but he had to shove those thoughts down pretty deep before he felt comfortable again.

Dean watched intently, his gaze never leaving the screen—or Lucifer's face. At the end, he leaned back. "Huh. Okay." He glanced at Sam. "I can sort of understand why you thought he kidnapped me or something. I get it. And…" He looked back at the screen for a moment. "Never mind.

"I'm gonna call my boss and see what he thinks we should do. Oh, by the way, Gabriel and Castiel Milligan are trying to protect us," he added with a bite of irritation on his voice. "Hopefully one of them will have an idea."

* * *

Gabriel's private line rang. He almost ignored it on sheer principle—it was usually Michael or, although less-frequently, Lucifer—but he checked the number anyway. And then he almost jumped for it. "Winchester?"

"Sir, we've got a problem. It turns out, we don't have days. Your brother already contacted Sam."

"Damn," Gabriel murmured, slowly sinking back into his seat. "Damn. That is a _big_ problem."

"And Sam already agreed to meet him."

"Hang on." Gabriel set the phone down, picked up his coffee mug—empty, of course; he didn't drink coffee at all—and threw it against the far wall with all the force he could muster. It shattered into a hundred satisfying little pieces. He'd been looking for an excuse to break the damned thing anyway. It had been a gift from an ex-girlfriend. He picked up the receiver again. "Okay, when?"

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I just broke a mug. When is Sam meeting Lucifer?"

"Um. Tomorrow at three-thirty. Apparently he's supposed to be meeting him at Armageddon."

"Okay, let me think," Gabriel murmured. He sighed. "Okay, Sam's got less than twenty-four hours before he has to disappear—and he _has_ to disappear. You do, too. Once Lucifer realizes Sam bailed out of the meet, he's gonna hit hard. And he can't go to that meeting, either. He…" Gabriel sighed again. "Damn it. Sam has these two friends at school, Anna Milton and Jessica Moore. Unfortunately, Anna is the girlfriend of one of my agents who went to Michael's side. You can bet Lucifer already knows about that. They're not safe, either." Gabriel stood up and started pacing, running his fingers through his hair. "Okay. I have people who can keep them safe. Tomorrow, Sam needs to go to school. If he's not there, someone will get suspicious. I'll station a few of my agents around campus to watch for Lucifer's thugs, and—"

"I'll do it."

"Absolutely not. That is a very bad idea. If Lucifer's people _are_ there and they see you—and you better believe they already know what you look like—they'll know something's up. They'll try to take you out, and causing a scene on campus is a sure way to get innocent people killed. We need to keep this as low-key as possible. Lucifer cannot know we're planning anything. And remember how we thought we had at least a couple of days before he made a move on your brother? Well, there's no guarantee that Michael hasn't caught wind of that. He could have his agents at the school tomorrow to pick up Sam and if they see you… well, game over. If they get both of you, we're all fucked. No, you can't be there, and my people know who to watch out for."

"Okay, then what? Sam goes to school tomorrow, then he gets out, and what? What happens then?"

"We pick him up and bring him here until Saturday night or something. Lucifer's birthday is on Sunday, so he'll be out carousing. No promises that he won't have people looking, but at least you won't actually run into him. Then we move the two of you to this safehouse I have. I always kind of suspected that something like this would happen—Michael and Lucifer fighting, I mean—and I always have a backup plan." He laughed softly. "Something Lucifer taught me, believe it or not. So Cas and I will move the two of you out there for however long it takes for my father to return. Hopefully it won't be too long, but… if it gets to be three or four months, we may just have to leave altogether. I am in no way staying in this city with a horrendously pissed-off Michael and Lucifer. You think they're bad now? Can you even imagine what would happen if they found out we were hiding you guys? It wouldn't be pretty."

"So… Cas knows about this?"

"No. I'm gonna contact him and let him know, though. My brothers are a lost cause and I really want to try to keep my family together, but I just don't see it happening. I think we have a much better shot of keeping you and Sam safe."

Dean sighed. "Alright. I guess you're right."

"While Sam's at school, you need to pack for both of you. Just the essentials. Be ready to go the second we get him from school. Clothes for a few days, whatever. And if I were you, I would stay armed."

"I'm always armed."

"Good."

"What about Sam?"

"Hell, no. Don't give him a gun—the school will throw a fit, I promise. Maybe give him a knife, but tell him not to pull it unless he has absolutely no other choice. I'm pretty sure it won't come to that, but… just in case. Anything else?"

Dean wracked his brain for something. "Phones. What do we do with our phones?"

"We're tossing them tomorrow. There's a satellite phone in the house just in case we need to call out for whatever reason, but cell phones are a bad idea, at least while the heat's on."

"Alright. Then I guess that's it."

"Okay. I'm gonna call Cas. You tell Sam what's happening."

"Yes, sir."


	10. Chapter 10

"You left a mark last time," Lucifer hissed to the blonde writhing beneath him. He scraped his teeth over the skin.

"S-sorry," came the gasped reply, followed by a strangled moan.

"You know you can't do that," he went on, heedless of the apology. "You don't want my wife to find out about this, do you?"

Balthazar Roché twisted his fingers in the sheets. "No," he breathed. Lucifer knew just what to say to make him feel cheap and filthy. It was bad enough that he had to remember he was married while they weren't in bed. Being reminded that this was just some affair for Lucifer during the actual act was nearly torturous.

He wasn't in love, he reminded himself as Milligan rocked his hips, tearing a moan from Balthazar's mouth. People didn't fall in love with Lucifer Milligan. Falling in lust, on the other hand, was something people did quite frequently with this man, and he'd fallen quite hard.

He didn't know how many others there had been before him, if any. He didn't want to know how many others there would be after him. He was usually able to ignore those thoughts. It was almost impossible to focus on anything that wasn't them, right there, fucking on the California king-sized bed in the Presidential Suite above the casino, but sometimes it happened. Like right now, when he was acutely aware of the ring on Lucifer's left hand digging into the skin of his hip, pressing into the bone. It was sure to leave a bruise, and Balthazar took a perverse pleasure in that fact. Lucifer had no qualms about marking him, claiming him as his own, but no one owned Lucifer Milligan. If you got this much attention from him, you considered yourself lucky.

But being skin-to-skin with him like this was enough to drive his mind blissfully blank after a few moments. It was always like this. If Lucifer fucked you long enough, you would forget how to communicate in anything other than vowels. Hell, you'd forget your own name. He'd give you exactly what you wanted, turn around, and take exactly what he wanted, and you'd be so enraptured while it was happening that you'd let him. He had that kind of power over just about everyone, but especially over him.

It was over too fast, but then again, it always was. No matter how long they spent between the black thousand-thread-count sheets, whether it was hours or the one week neither of them left the room at all (he had no idea what Lucifer told his wife later), it was never long enough. Balthazar was addicted. He wasn't the first and he wouldn't be the last, but right now, it was him.

He tentatively reached out and trailed his fingers over Lucifer's arm. When the younger man didn't pull away, he inched closer. It was always a gamble, trying to figure out how much contact he was allowed after the deed was done. Sometimes, he didn't want to be touched at all. Other times, he practically cuddled. This time seemed to be more along the lines of the latter. As he scooted, Lucifer moved his arm and wrapped it around him. Balthazar sank into the solid form of his body, closing his eyes and letting himself float there.

This was bliss. For a few moments, he could pretend it was just the two of them on this sea of subsiding hormones as they both enjoyed the post-orgasmic haze. Right now, no one else in the world mattered. Not Meg, not Michael, not anyone who could distract Lucifer from this moment.

"I can't figure it out," Lucifer murmured abruptly.

_Ah. Apparently not._ Somewhere in the back of his mind, a voice had crept up and ruined the moment for Lucifer. "Can't figure what out?" Balthazar asked. Part of him was genuinely interested in what he was thinking, but most of him just wanted to hear his voice. It could be sweet and soothing sometimes, especially sex-roughened like it was.

"My father. He's always told us that we should take responsibility for our actions, take care of our family, that kind of thing. And then one day he just gets on a plane to the Middle East and we don't hear from him for six months. And then when he finally _does_ contact us, all he says is he'll be home at some point but he doesn't leave any instructions except 'don't look for me.' It's like, what the Hell? He's like this huge fucking hypocrite—him and Michael both. Michael's always harping on about following Dad's plan and hanging on the man's every word, but the one directive he actually _does_ give us, he just ignores. I don't get it. And then he has the nerve to tell me to be subservient to him. No, fuck that. And I know Gabriel agrees with me but he's too scared to actually do anything about it. He doesn't want to pick sides until he knows with any certainty who's gonna win this thing. At least Raphael had the balls to just pick a fucking side, even though he picked Michael's. But Gabriel's staying out of it because he's so sure he's gonna get steamrolled. That's why so many of his people are deserting him, eh?" he added, gently nudging Balthazar.

The blonde laughed sleepily, curling himself closer to Lucifer. He was only half-listening to his lover's ranting, but he could tell Lucifer didn't mind. He just needed to vent.

"And Castiel… well, I can kind of see where he's coming from. He's just a kid, you know? He tries to see the best in everyone—me and Michael and Gabriel and Raphael. He's still talking to all of us but staying neutral. Hey, I appreciate the sentiment, too. I understand his situation. He barely has any assets and maybe a dozen people working for him? If that? And they're all kids, too. Kids he went to school with, for fuck's sake. No, this is gonna end bloody and it's better for all of them if he stays out of it. It's no place for a kid."

Balthazar had met Castiel once or twice and had to admit that, on the surface, Lucifer's judgment was right on target. But underneath that, Castiel had a hidden power that he just barely understood.

"I just… my dad. He just left right when we needed him the most, like he doesn't give a flying fuck about any of us, and he expects us to still obey him? Where the Hell is he? He doesn't understand what's going on here at all. And then Michael still pretends to be the obedient son, but he isn't. He's not the perfect son that he sees himself as. And he still pretends he's doing what Dad wants him to do, even though he's just as lost as I am. I don't see why he just throws it in and says, 'Fuck you.' It's obvious Dad doesn't care. Why would a loving father abandon his children like this? Not even a set of guidelines to follow, just 'figure it out for yourselves.' What kind of father does that?"

Balthazar became dimly aware that this wasn't so much a rant as a steady stream of Lucifer's consciousness. He may not have even realized what he was saying. The Lucifer he knew would have never willingly admitted that he was lost. He'd never known Lucifer to openly acknowledge something like that before. This was an open, angry, vulnerable Lucifer Milligan, and Balthazar's chest tightened in response. He had to fight the urge to run his fingers soothingly through his hair. Doing so, he thought, would break the spell that Lucifer had cast on himself. He was almost hypnotized as he spoke, and Balthazar wasn't willing to shatter the illusion. Not just yet.

"But I still sent people off to find the bastard, because we need him back here. If I could just understand why he left, what the point of all this was, I think I might be able to accept it, but he isn't answering. It's like he's not even there anymore. Maybe _he_ doesn't even know why he left, or maybe he doesn't want to tell us. Maybe he left because he's ashamed of us or something."

"I don't think so," Balthazar said softly, and then almost smacked himself. He'd wanted to avoid derailing Lucifer's train of thought.

Lucifer let out a breath that was halfway between a scoff and a chuckle. "I don't know. _I_ would be. If I were in his shoes, I'd be pretty ashamed of us." He sank back against the pillows, keeping Balthazar pinned against him, not that the blonde was complaining. Sometimes, it really seemed like they had a connection. That, he supposed, was part of Lucifer's power. He gave you exactly what you wanted and then took it away so fast, you went dizzy. And because he'd already given it to you, you knew he could do it again and it felt so sweet that you didn't care what else happened, as long as you got your fix again. You'd go crawling back to him no matter what. You couldn't stay away from him. It was definitely an addiction. He hadn't known what would happen when Gabriel Milligan first told him he had to go pretend to be a defector with Bobby Singer. He didn't know what he expected, but it sure wasn't to end up in bed with his boss's older brother.

The whole thing was a convoluted mess that he didn't like to contemplate for any great length of time. It was obvious that Lucifer wanted him, for whatever superficial reasons he had, and the casual way he'd pursued him despite being married just indicated that this wasn't the first time he'd had an affair. Balthazar wondered if Meg knew about her husband's infidelity, but decided she probably didn't. But she almost certainly knew about his uncanny ability to get whatever he wanted from people. What Lucifer wanted, Lucifer got.

They lapsed into a thoughtful, comfortable silence. Balthazar was close to sleep, his head still resting on Lucifer's chest, when someone knocked very loudly on the door. Lucifer sighed and rolled out of bed, and Balthazar grumpily let his head settle onto the now-vacated pillow. Once Milligan wrapped himself in a robe, he exited the bedroom and went to the door.

Half-asleep, Balthazar peeked at the clock and nearly groaned. It was two in the morning. These were Lucifer's peak hours, when something was nearly guaranteed to go wrong downstairs—a customer over-spending his limit or blowing her whole line of credit, or something even worse with the coke he sold in the back—and they usually did. He had no idea how Lucifer stayed sane with close to no sleep, but then, he probably slept when he went home. Balthazar had never been to Lucifer's penthouse flat, and he had a feeling he never would.

Lucifer came back in a minute later, muttering angrily and flipping on a light. Balthazar had to suppress a groan as he pulled the duvet over his head and prayed he was going to be allowed at least a few hours' sleep. He hadn't been doing all this nighttime running around for years like Lucifer had. He wasn't used to it yet. But Lucifer wasn't barking at him to get up and get dressed, so he figured he was okay. It wasn't until he finished dressing and flipped the light back off on his way out that he said, "I'll be back soon." He closed the door behind him, and Balthazar finally sank into sleep.

* * *

When Balthazar woke up next, it was to Lucifer slipping back into the room. The light mercifully stayed off as the strawberry blonde undressed and crawled back into bed next to him. He ran his fingers over Balthazar's side for a moment and murmured, "Are you awake?"

"Mm-hmm," Balthazar answered sleepily.

"Good." He pressed a kiss to Balthazar's lips, one he enthusiastically returned as he quickly shook off his sleep. Lucifer finally tore his mouth away from Balthazar's and started to lick and suck on his neck, leaving more marks for him to hide in the morning, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He moaned in delicious abandon, trying not to dig his nails into Lucifer's back as Milligan situated himself between his legs and rutted against him.

"Oh, fuck!" he almost screamed when Lucifer finally pushed into him. It was a sweet, sick burn, an indescribably hot pleasure that had him clinging to the man, begging for more no matter how much it hurt. With Lucifer whispering little encouragements in his ear, telling him how tight he was and how good he felt, he whimpered, wanting to roll him over and just ride him, but he didn't dare. This was Lucifer's affair—he called the shots. He met every thrust of Lucifer's hips, fisting his fingers in the younger man's hair.

Again, it was over way too fast. He raked the nails of one hand over Lucifer's shoulders, clinging to the sheets beneath him with his other hand, trying to restrain himself from crying out his name. It would be too intimate, too much for either of them. He just wanted one time where he felt like Lucifer was entirely his, but he knew it was too much to ask for. Lucifer could never he his.

The speed with which the act was executed was understandable because they were both exhausted. Balthazar didn't blame him when Lucifer fell asleep within a few minutes. He laid awake for a little longer, feeling an ache that he didn't recognize well up inside him. It wasn't good. He had to remind himself for the thousandth time that he wasn't in love with Lucifer Milligan.

Of course, it was a lie. That was the real reason he would let Lucifer use him. It didn't matter anymore. He was in love with him and had been since the moment the man looked at him. He figured there were probably dozens of people who were in love with Lucifer, but right now, he was the one that Lucifer had chosen to lay with.

Balthazar sighed and willed himself to drift back into sleep. It was too unsettling to think too hard about things like this right now. He'd never intended to get involved with Lucifer Milligan, and now he was too far gone to get out. He'd royally fucked up his job of just keeping tabs on the man and reporting back to Gabriel, but there was nothing anyone could do about it anymore. By all rights, he should just call it in and have Gabriel replace him, but that would be impossible. There was no way he could be replaced now without arousing suspicion, that much was true. But he didn't want to leave anymore, either. He couldn't. He knew something bad was hurtling toward them, and if there was even the smallest chance he could keep it away from Lucifer, protect him no matter how much he deserved it, he wanted to try.

He was in way over his head. His entire directive had been compromised. But the information he passed on to Gabriel was valuable, and he couldn't just stop now. No, not when there was something so close to bursting. The whole city felt it. If he vanished now, there wouldn't be time for another agent to infiltrate Lucifer Milligan's network and get the kind of information Gabriel needed.

Once all this was over, once he'd saved Lucifer from whatever was coming, he would give Gabriel Milligan his resignation letter and leave the city. After all this, he needed a fresh start somewhere new, somewhere people didn't know him.

And with that thought in mind, the decision that he might someday be able to escape the ghost of what should have been between him and Lucifer, he finally fell asleep.

* * *

Sam and Dean finished packing their clothes and stashed their bags in the trunk of the Impala. They dodged the patches of ice as they went, trying not to giggle when they missed one and slipped—not enough to fall, but enough to make their hearts leap into their throats, both from overall nervousness and the threat of falling. They tried to keep their voices down in the early-morning air, but it was probably the last time they'd feel close to at-ease in the foreseeable future.

They finally skated back up to their apartment and shrugged out of their jackets. Sam hadn't been able to sleep at all that night and now that he had only four and a half hours left until he had to be at school, he wasn't sure that he'd be able to sleep at all. Dean had explained the situation to him, and he regarded the whole idea with a fair amount of trepidation. But he'd royally fucked up, and Dean was the one bailing his ass out. Again.

Well, if Dean trusted his boss Gabriel Milligan and didn't trust Lucifer, Sam had no reason to doubt that trust or lack thereof. It definitely seemed like Lucifer Milligan wasn't the kind of man you wanted to cross, and the fact that he was about to do just that had him a little anxious. But Dean was sure that Gabriel Milligan could help them and keep them safe, so he just had to believe that.

Dean could tell that Sam wasn't going to sleep at all. So they sat up for the rest of the night.

"Think we'll be okay?" Sam asked finally.

Dean blinked at him in the slowly-lightening room. "You mean, safe from those assholes?"

"Yeah."

"I sure hope so."

"But do you think we will be?"

Dean swallowed. He hated to admit this. "I don't know. But I do know that Gabriel and Castiel Milligan are going to try their hardest to make sure we're okay."


	11. Chapter 11

Dean didn't typically wait at the bus stop with Sam, but he felt like it was something he needed to do today. He never drove Sam to school and it seemed like if there were Lucifer or Michael's agents hanging around campus, they'd get suspicious if they saw him getting out of the Impala instead of taking the bus like he normally did, so Dean had to content himself with making sure no harm befell his brother until the bus arrived. He didn't like it—if he had his way, he would just throw Sam in the car and tear the Hell out of there this morning.

But they didn't have Gabriel Milligan's friends, which was pretty much the only reason he was sticking to the plan right now. Later, if he needed to improvise, he would.

The bus pulled up a few minutes later and Sam hoisted his backpack over his shoulder. "I'll see you later," he said quietly, and Dean nodded, jaw clenched.

"Watch out for yourself today," he managed to answer.

He waited until Sam took a seat and the bus roared away before he finally headed back to the apartment. He had a few more things to take care of, but first, he was going to take a nap. Staying up with Sam had been fun, but he was definitely tired enough to sleep.

* * *

He woke up at eleven-thirty to his alarm and groaned. He really didn't want to get up right now, but he told himself he was going to hunt up a few extra things they might need. A couple of sleeping bags and some snacks might come in handy. He didn't know how well-stocked this safehouse of his boss's was (he imagined it was probably pretty well), but he figured it was better to be set for a couple of days if they didn't make it there right away.

Or if they had to bail out. Gabriel seemed pretty confident that his brothers didn't know about the house, but that didn't mean a whole lot anymore. It was always better to be on the safe side.

Dean slung two sleeping bags over his shoulder and headed down to the Impala in the back parking lot. Snow was starting to fall again and he had a feeling it would be very cold that night. They'd need to stay as warm as possible. Ending up frozen to death would definitely make it impossible for Michael and Lucifer to get any use out of them, but Dean wasn't a big fan of dying. Not just yet.

He wondered if any of them really knew what they were getting themselves into. Gabriel probably had a pretty good idea, but how much did Castiel really understand about his brothers? How much did _any_ of them really know? Maybe all of this was useless. Maybe they'd never be able to get away from Michael and Lucifer.

But he and Sam, at least, had to try. They weren't going to give in without a fight. That wasn't the Winchester way.

The elevators in the building were still out, so he was stuck climbing the stairs to the eighth floor. As he went, he felt a nameless, baseless trepidation rising inside him. He had no reason to suspect that anything bad was heading his way—not just yet—but there was a buzzing at the back of his head that he couldn't ignore. He passed the door to the seventh floor and tried to tell himself that there was nothing going on yet, that he was perfectly fine, but he couldn't stop himself from slowly opening the door to the eighth floor and peering down the hall.

_Shit!_ "Son of a bitch!" he muttered, staying in the stairwell and trying to close the door quietly behind him. Zachariah was standing there in his usual gray suit, right in front of his door, apparently waiting for him. This was so not good.

He slunk against the wall and patted down his pockets. He had his keys and his phone, and his gun was tucked into the waistband of his jeans. _Well, looks like I'm getting the fuck out of here now._ He chanced one last glance back at the door and charged down the stairs back to the Impala. He really wanted to waste Zachariah right now, but that would make his already-shitty situation that much worse. Firing off gunshots in the middle of an apartment complex wouldn't go over well, that was for sure.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck! Son of a bitch!" Dean swore somewhere around the fifth floor. He pulled his phone out and dialed Gabriel's number, praying the son of a bitch answered _quick_.

"Winchester? What's going on?"

"Zachariah's in front of my fucking apartment, that's what's going on! I'm heading to the car right now, but—"

"Jesus, Dean! Did he see you?"

"Fuck, I don't think so! What do I do?"

"Fuck. Call Sam and get him from school. You're gonna have Michael's people all over you anyway, so we might as well just ditch the original plan. Then go to Mellegrino Park—Castiel will be waiting there and he'll tell you how to get to my house. You and Sam need to get here immediately."

Dean hung up and sprinted across the parking lot as best he could, dodging the ice patches, when he heard someone behind him yell, "Winchester!" The voice definitely didn't sound friendly, so he didn't bother to turn around. Just as he was sliding to the door of the Impala, he heard running footsteps behind him. Only then did he finally look back and see three other people—Michael's people, he could just tell; Lucifer's people didn't dress like that and he knew all of Gabriel's people—chasing after him. One was on his cell phone, yelling to Zachariah that Winchester was getting away. As fast as he could, Dean jumped into the car and peeled out of the parking lot. He just prayed they weren't about to start shooting at him right now. The last thing he wanted was innocent civilians getting hit, although the Milligans' agents didn't seem to care about that sort of thing as a rule.

In his rearview, he saw the three and Zachariah, who'd practically flown out the main entrance of the building, dashing for their own cars, but Dean had a head start. He'd need it, too, because the Impala was distinctive and pretty damn hard to miss. At least it wasn't red, though.

He dialed Sam's number and silently begged him to answer.

* * *

Sam's phone buzzed in his pocket and he ignored the call at first. But then there was a second call. And then a third. He ignored the fourth one, too, and whoever it was left a voice message. About thirty seconds later, there was a fifth call, and Sam finally peeked at his phone.

_Dean!_ If Dean was calling him this much, there was definitely a problem. He knew he had to answer this, so he quickly stood up and slunk toward the classroom door, trying not to attract to much attention. He just hoped he looked calm so he didn't tip off anyone who might be reporting to Lucifer or Michael.

The call went to voicemail again before he could dart out of the classroom and answer it, but he called Dean right back the moment he was in the hallway.

"Sam! Fuck, where have you been?" Dean sounded frantic and Sam immediately went into panic mode.

"Class, why? What's wrong?"

"Get outside right fucking now! I've got Michael's sons of bitches on my tail! Screw the plan—we're getting out of here now!"

Sam cast a glance back through the doorway. His jacket and backpack were still in the classroom, next to Jess. Too late. He was out already, and there was no way he could go back in and retrieve his possessions without arousing suspicion. "Shit. Okay, I'm heading to the front now," he said, starting down the hallway. "How close are you?"

"Two minutes, Sam! Main entrance, got that? I'll get as close as I can!"

Sam hung up and sent a quick text to Jessica. _Hang onto my things for me._ He hoped she'd pick up on that thought before she left his bag and his jacket in the classroom but at this point, he was really just hoping they'd make it through the day alive.

He got plenty of strange looks as he ran, but so far, no one was chasing after him. He supposed that was a good thing, though. He slammed through the front doors and raced to where Dean was roaring up toward him. As soon as the Impala stopped—six inches from his toes, thank you very much—he jumped in and slammed the door shut behind him.

"Dude, how did you not get stopped by campus police on the way here?"

"I don't fucking know, okay? I just—"

"Slow down, at least until we get off campus, alright?"

Dean tore his eyes away from the road for a moment to blink at him. "Are you serious right now?" He didn't bother to slow down. "I've got Michael riding my ass and you want me to slow down? Sam, this baby can outrun anything those campus police punks can throw at us."

"Yes, but it's not very subtle, is it?" As he asked, they pulled out into traffic, so it became a moot point. "What's the plan, though? We show up to wherever it is we're going with ten squad cars and Michael's people all over us? Isn't that a little _obvious_?"

"Sam, this _car_ is a little obvious! What are we supposed to do, ditch it? There's no time for that right now! We're heading to the park to pick up Castiel Milligan. He's getting us to Gabriel's place."

Sam peered anxious out of the back window and bit his lip. There didn't _seem_ to be anyone following them, but still… "What happened, anyway? How did Michael's thugs find you?"

"It was this real piece of work named Zachariah Patterson. I used to work with him, back when I was working for Chuck Milligan. He's… he's not the nicest guy. In fact, he's kind of twisted. And he's working for Michael. He came by today. I was throwing a couple of sleeping bags in here and I went back up and there he was, right in front of the fucking door. So I hightailed it out of there except he had some backup with him and I know they saw me leave, so… I'm just hoping we can get to Gabriel Milligan's house before all this blows up in our faces."

"And we're heading to the _park_?"

"That's where Gabriel said Cas was gonna be. I don't fucking know where Gabriel's place is—what do you really expect me to do? Stop and ask Zachariah for directions?"

Sam just tipped his head back and groaned. "Alright, well, did you pack any more jackets or something? I had to leave everything in the classroom. I didn't know what was going on and I figured leaving with everything was suspicious, so…" He glanced at the clock on the dashboard. It was just about noon now, and his class would be letting out. He hoped Jess had picked up his things.

"Yeah. I got more jackets in the trunk." Dean pulled up to a stoplight and wriggled out of his jacket. "Here," he said, handing it to Sam who wordlessly put it on.

At this point, Sam was grateful that his brother favored clothing that was just a bit too big for him because they fit him perfectly. He used to be small for his age until he hit sixteen or so, and then he shot up. Now he was six-foot-four, towering over his brother, who he'd once literally looked up to.

"Take the SIM card out of your phone and give it to me. The phone, I mean," Dean said when they arrived at the park and got out of the car. Sam did as Dean requested and handed his phone over. Dean dropped it and his own phone in the trash. "We have to ditch them anyway. Might as well be here."

Sam knew this and he'd already accepted his phone's fate. "Who are we looking for again?" he asked.

"Castiel Milligan, Gabriel's younger brother. Dark hair, blue eyes, wearing a trench coat the last time I saw—oh, he's over there," Dean interrupted himself, jogging over to the dark-haired man who was still wearing the trench coat and had noticed him at the same time. They met halfway and hurried back to the car. "Cas, this is my brother Sam. Sam, this is Castiel Milligan." Sam just barely had time to register that, apparently, the Milligans just bred attractive people because Castiel was definitely easy on the eyes, but in a decidedly more innocent sphere than Lucifer or Michael. But it was just a moment. Dean didn't give them time to even mumble a quick "hello" to each other before popping open doors. "Now, get in. We need to get the Hell out of here before Zachariah catches up."

"Gabriel didn't give me a comprehensive explanation of events. What transpired?"

"Zachariah popped in at our apartment while I was downstairs. I was able to get away and get Sam. That's the shortest possible story."

"Hmm." Castiel's eyes locked with Dean's in the rearview. "And now we need to abscond to Gabriel's house."

"Yeah. He said you knew the way. I have no freaking clue where he lives."

"Alright, Dean. Turn left up on that street."

* * *

"Where the Hell did he go?" Zachariah roared, rounding on the three foot soldiers who'd been inept enough to let Winchester get away. "Milligan's going to chew _me_ out over _your_ incompetence!" He had to admit, with the slick escape Dean Winchester had pulled, it was becoming less of a mystery why Michael wanted him. He was quick, and even in that car of his, he'd still managed to disappear. "Search the city! Find that damn Impala, and find Winchester!" He did _not_ want to report back to Michael Milligan that he'd been unable to accomplish this task with the moronic fucks who'd been assigned to work with him. That would be a sure way to incur his wrath and a wrathful Michael tended to get a bit… smitey.

He glanced at his watch as two of the soldiers disappeared into one car and the other climbed into the second car. It was two in the afternoon now. If they wanted to wrap this up quickly, they needed backup immediately. He ducked into the passenger's seat of the second car and said, "Well? Get going!" As the car peeled out of the parking lot of the cinema complex, he called Ash. He'd be the one who could get them more people on the hunt for Dean Winchester.

And if they found Sam Winchester, too, all the better. That way, Lucifer couldn't get his hands on him.

* * *

"Here?" Dean asked, dumbstruck. This tiny little one-story house was _not_ what he'd expected for Gabriel Milligan. Then again, maybe that was the point.

"Yes. Gabriel has always had a propensity for hiding." Castiel popped open the rear door of the Impala, went to the garage door, and punched in a code. The door opened, and Dean drove inside. As soon as the Impala was in, he shut the garage door and went to a door leading inside the house.

Dean and Sam climbed out and exchanged glances. Well, this was it. Like it or not, they were now entirely dependent on the Milligans for survival. Dean definitely didn't like it, but they had no other choice. "Let's just go in," he muttered, heading toward the door.

In the kitchen next to Castiel there was a shorter but older-looking man with golden hair and eyes to match. _This can't be Gabriel Milligan_ , Sam thought. The guy was dressed in jeans and an old Army jacket, and he was sitting on the counter, idly kicking the cupboard below him with his heel, a half-grin on his face. But then again, maybe this _was_ Gabriel Milligan. He was definitely attractive as well, in a way that was much different from his brothers even though that near-smirk of his hinted at hidden power.

"Mr. Milligan, this is my brother Sam," Dean started, and Gabriel finally turned his golden gaze on Sam. _Oh, wow._ Gabriel's smile widened, became more genuine, and Sam thought he might have been melting. He certainly couldn't tear his eyes away from Gabriel, that was for sure. "Sam, this is—"

"Gabriel, okay?" he said, cutting off Dean. "They call me Gabriel."

Sam found himself grinning even though there was nothing remotely good or smile-provoking about the situation. "It's nice to meet you."

One corner of Gabriel's mouth quirked up further. "It's nice to meet _you_ , Sasquatch." Then his gaze finally left Sam and he looked to Dean. "Alright, boys. The plan's been modified slightly. I'm shutting down my office for all intents and purposes tomorrow. My people are still reporting to me, but I've become more mobile now. The way I see it, you've got another day at the most before Michael and Lucifer's goons come after you. They probably won't look here for a few more days, though. Honestly, I think this kind of treachery will take them by surprise. Well, maybe. I don't know, maybe they've gotten more paranoid since I spoke to them last."

"I believe such a development would not particularly astound them," Castiel said.

"Okay. So take that however you will. The trail's too hot right now and it probably will be for the next twenty-four hours. Michael's already riding you guys and it's, what, three now? Lucifer's going to realize in about an hour that you're not showing up, Sam. And then he's going to hunt you down. So tomorrow night, we're heading out. Did you already get rid of your phones?" When they confirmed they had, he nodded in satisfaction. "Good. Now then," he added, hopping off the counter, and Sam saw for sure that Gabriel was a good seven or eight inches shorter than him, "anyone hungry?"

* * *

Lucifer glanced at his watch for the eighth time in three minutes. Sam was fifteen minutes late already, and he was grappling with his ever-increasing temper. He figured Sam would show up if he knew what was good for him and his brother both, but apparently not. Still, he waited another fifteen minutes before he dug out his phone and recorded a quick video.

"Sammy, Sammy, Sammy," he said smoothly, with just a touch of ice in his voice. "It's four o'clock. You are a half an hour late for a meeting we set up yesterday. Now, I'll give you…" He made a show of checking his watch for the camera. "…oh, ten minutes to answer this and let me know what the hold-up is. If I don't hear from you, you're just going to make me assume that you're not coming at all and, well, I'll find you, Sammy. And it won't be pleasant for you. Or your brother. So. Hopefully I'll see you soon."

He typed in Sam's email address and hit send.

* * *

In a trash can in Mellegrino Park, a phone buzzed to alert the user who'd abandoned it that he had a new email.


	12. Chapter 12

The sliding door to Gabriel's backyard opened, and a sliver of light fell against his back before the door closed again. Outside was quiet and dark, and Gabriel was sitting on the edge of his patio with a bottle of beer next to him.

"Gabe?" Castiel asked, unsure if he was interrupting anything.

But when Gabriel turned his head to look at him, his brother was smiling. "Hey, little bro. What's up?"

"Nothing," Castiel said seriously. He wrapped his coat tighter around himself and slowly approached Gabriel. "Do you mind if I join you?"

"Yeah, go ahead." As soon as Castiel sat down, Gabriel sighed. "I just keep thinking. We all used to be so close. How did it get to this point, you know? What we're doing… Michael and Lucifer will see this as a pretty serious betrayal, keeping the Winchesters away from them. They're gonna be pissed, Cas. They're not gonna take it lightly. I don't know what exactly they'll do, but… It probably won't end well for any of us."

"Gabriel," Castiel started, but the elder Milligan held up his hand.

"I'm not done. Look. I agreed to help you with this. I see your point—Michael and Lucifer definitely have the potential to tear this family apart. I don't want to see that happen, but I especially don't want to see it happen to _another_ family. So here we are, on the eve of our venture into the great unknown. I'm sticking by you. You're the only one who can see past his own selfish desires to focus on the bigger picture. I think that when Dad comes back, he's gonna be proud of you."

"He'll be proud of you, too," Castiel said quietly.

Although Gabriel shook his head, his younger brother could tell that he was pleased. "I don't think so. He asked me to try to hold _our_ family together, and I basically said, 'Fuck that.' Nah, I'll get a pat on the back and that's it. But that's fine, Cas. You were always the best of us. You didn't lose yourself to this utter bullshit that's going on. No, Dad's gonna be proud of you."

Castiel smiled faintly. "I received a message from Inias an hour ago. They touched down in Dubai. Michael and Lucifer's teams have a head start, but I'm confident we can still do some damage control."

Gabriel nodded thoughtfully. "I hope you warned them to be careful around those creeps." He shuddered and took a swig of his beer. "Azazel scares the fuck out of me. He's _seriously_ unbalanced. On-par with Alastair-unbalanced."

"I warned them. I don't believe anyone will see them as a threat, however. And the likelihood of anyone recognizing them as working for me seems slim."

"I don't know," Gabriel half-joked. "All your people remind me a lot of you. Respectful, formal, but generally clueless."

Castiel bristled. "I'm not clueless, Gabriel. I know very well what's going on. That's why I came to you, remember? I acknowledged my own shortcomings, my personal inability to protect the Winchesters, which is why I came to you. I may give the impression that I'm uninformed, but I wonder if you ever realized that was for my own safety."

Gabriel looked at him intently.

"If no one sees me as a threat, no one suspects me," Castiel went on softly, a small smile playing across his features. "And then I can continue subtly working things in the background. For example, I believe that Michael and Lucifer would much sooner believe that you were behind all this, not me."

His older brother chuckled softly. "Alright, Cas. You win. You have far exceeded my expectations."

Castiel's faint smile widened and he looked up toward the sky. "I wonder if Dad's looking up at these same stars right now."

Gabriel scoffed. "Doubt it. Dubai's nine hours ahead of us."

* * *

Zachariah stood before Michael, trying to appearing neutral but mostly struggling not to panic. Michael was just sitting at his desk, looking bored. He lazily drummed his fingers against the surface of his desk.

"So," he said finally. "Let me see if I understand this correctly. You cornered Dean Winchester at his apartment. Every single one of you was armed at the time. He saw you first and escaped, and now he still eludes you. Am I understanding this?"

"S-sir," Zachariah stuttered, "we didn't exactly have him _cornered_. He must have been down the hall or something. That must have been how he saw me first, and—"

"But your people were all armed. They very easily could have shot out his tires. Or, even better—you could have slashed his tires as soon as you arrived. I don't know why you didn't think of that—it's a brilliant idea. Keeps him from making a getaway." Michael heaved an irritated sigh. "And then, when you finally remember that his brother goes to school uptown and decide that _that_ would be a great place to look for him, both Sam and Dean Winchester are nowhere to be found."

"S-sir, we believe someone may be hiding them. We—"

"Then I highly recommend you go find them. If they're both gone, they're together. Do I need to remind you that Lucifer is currently hunting for Sam Winchester? If he finds them before you do, you will be in a world of shit. That Impala of theirs is pretty hard to miss, isn't it?" Michael's voice was rising and righteous fury was boiling behind his eyes. His handsome features were contorted into an expression of such rage that, for a moment, Zachariah was genuinely terrified. He practically cowered as Michael stormed out from behind his desk and rounded on him. "I don't care what you have to do to get to Dean Winchester! Tear apart whoever you like—kill Sam Winchester, for all I care! Hell, that's more than acceptable—Lucifer won't be able to use a dead man! Get everyone on the streets and _go find them_!" With that, he pointed at the door, and Zachariah didn't need telling twice. He got out of there in a hurry.

As soon as the door slammed behind him, Michael seemed to deflate. He let out an exhausted sigh and went back to his desk.

He had an idea that Gabriel might know where Dean Winchester had gone, but he hadn't returned a phone call in months. It wouldn't surprise him terribly to learn that Gabriel was harboring the Winchesters, but the idea that another one of his brothers was working against him deeply saddened him. However, he firmly believed what he'd said to Zachariah a minute ago—if Dean was gone, Sam was with him. If Gabriel was hiding Dean, he was hiding Sam as well, which meant that Lucifer probably couldn't find Sam. That thought was a small relief.

But he knew someone who just might have contact with Gabriel. He picked up his phone and dialed.

* * *

Castiel's phone rang in his trench coat pocket, causing Gabriel to raise his eyebrow. "You haven't ditched that thing yet?"

"Inias and Samandriel still need to contact me. I'm getting rid of it tomorrow," he explained patiently. Then he looked at the screen and his brows knitted together. "It's Michael."

"Answer him. Don't you always answer when he calls?"

Castiel shot him an exasperated look and answered. "Hello, Michael."

"Castiel, hello. I'm sorry about the late hour, but there's a matter of some pressing urgency I need to discuss with you."

Castiel raised an eyebrow and gave Gabriel a look that said, _You're hearing this, right?_ Gabriel nodded subtly. "Go ahead," Castiel said.

"Do you have any contact with Gabriel at all? I know he won't return mine or Raphael's calls and you said he doesn't return Lucifer's calls, either, but I thought that maybe, since you were neutral…"

"No," Castiel said carefully. "No, Gabriel hasn't returned my calls, either. I believe he thinks I will attempt to make him choose a side. In fact, I'm close to giving up on the attempt. It seems fruitless, at this point." Gabriel nodded at him encouragingly, grinning and finishing off his beer.

"I see." Michael sounded disappointed. "Well, the reason I ask is because a few of my agents attempted to meet with Dean Winchester earlier today, and he fled from them. For what reason, I can't imagine, but I suspect that Gabriel may know, and may also know where he is."

"Why would you think that?"

"Because no one can locate Sam Winchester either, apparently. So wherever they are, they're together. And I don't believe Lucifer has them, because if he did, he would probably be calling me to brag about it. So they're hiding somewhere, and I have to imagine that they're hiding with Gabriel's help."

"I see," Castiel said. "Have you tried emailing him or just calling?"

Michael sighed. "I've tried everything to get through to him. I'd almost say he vanished off the face of the Earth but I know Winchester has still been running around, executing people, so I know he's getting his orders from someone."

Castiel felt his throat constrict. He'd heard Dean refer to himself as a hired gun, but it didn't have quite the same impact as his own brother telling him he executed people. And even worse, it was on Gabriel's orders.

"But we'll find them," Michael went on. "The Winchesters' car sticks out. It won't take long."

"I understand. You said Dean and Sam Winchester are most likely together, yes?"

"Yes."

"When you find Dean Winchester, what will you do with Sam?"

"I hadn't thought about it," Michael said carelessly. "But we'll keep him safe from Lucifer, of course."

"Good to know," Castiel murmured. He could tell by Michael's voice that he was lying. It shook him to his core. His brother would kill Sam without hesitation—and if Castiel knew Lucifer, he knew he would kill Dean without thinking twice, either.

"Well, I won't keep you from whatever it is you were doing."

"Sleeping."

"Right. Makes sense. Good night, Castiel."

"Good night, Michael." Castiel hung up and stared at the phone for a minute. "I believe Michael means to kill Sam if he finds them."

"Does that really surprise you?"

"Yesterday, it would have. Yesterday, the idea of any of my brothers killing anyone seemed appalling." Castiel's jaw clenched. "But right now, I think I'm realizing that maybe my brothers are meant to be killers."

"Cas—"

"How do you sleep at night, knowing you have blood on your hands?" he hissed, standing up suddenly.

"They were evil people, Cas," Gabriel explained with a trace of irritation in his voice. "I never ordered a hit that wasn't deserved. Murderers and rapists, Cas—that was all. Not a single innocent person was hurt by a bullet I ordered. Michael and Lucifer may kill people who just get in their way, but not me!"

"And that makes you better than them? You're still a killer."

Gabriel stood up, inadvertently knocking his bottle to the side. "No, it doesn't make me better than them. But at least I understand the difference between killing someone who has it coming and killing an innocent person. Yes, I'm a killer, but if I have to be, then why not take out some sick sons of bitches while I'm at it? Maybe Dad won't be proud of me and maybe I'll go to Hell for it, but I can live with myself, knowing that there are people out there right now who are alive and whole and happy because I ordered Dean Winchester to pull the trigger. It's on me, not on him. So if you want to hate me, fine. But you started this, keeping them safe. You better not abandon us now because I already told you I'm going up shit creek with you."

Castiel was breathing heavily by the time Gabriel finished speaking. He could tell that Castiel was relenting a bit, but he wasn't ready to accede just yet. "For the Winchesters," he said finally. "Not for you."

* * *

"We searched the campus," a frightened-looking man said, trying not to visibly tremble as he stood before Lucifer Milligan. "But by the time we got there, he was gone."

Lucifer sighed and closed his eyes, appearing to struggle to hold onto his patience. Of course, he expected that, by the time they got to the school, Sam would be long gone. The news wasn't particularly surprising. "What about the apartment?" he asked finally, looking back at the unfortunate sap who'd gotten stuck with leading the search. "Did you look there?"

"Y-yes, sir, we did. The Impala wasn't there but we looked anyway. There was no one at the apartment. A-and at the school, some of Sam Winchester's classmates said he left shortly before noon, before the class let out. But he left his coat and his backpack in the classroom.

Lucifer furrowed his brows. This was an interesting development. "And where are these items now?"

"Another student named Jessica Moore has them."

"And where is she?"

"We're working on locating her as well."

"I see."

"And another student, another friend of Sam Winchester, has also gone missing."

"And who would that be?"

"Her name is Anna Milton, and according to what other students have said, her girlfriend is a woman named Joanna Harvelle. And Joanna Harvelle works for Michael."

Lucifer nodded slowly as the pieces fell into place. "I see. So, Michael got to Sam and Dean Winchester first. I don't give a damn about Dean, but Michael has no use for Sam Winchester. He's somewhere separate. I don't care what it takes—you find him, you hear me?" His voice was rising from the sheer gall of it. His brother wasn't about to best him like this! "Michael _cannot_ make a fool out of me! Find Sam Winchester!"

The other man practically dashed out of the room, and Lucifer sighed and leaned back in his chair. He wasn't entirely sure that Michael had already located the Winchesters—he assumed Michael would have called to gloat or something. But perhaps Gabriel might know where Dean Winchester was, and there was no way Dean didn't know where Sam was.

He checked his watch. It was shortly before midnight. It was too late now, but tomorrow he'd forgo the calls and emails and just drop by to see his brother face-to-face. Gabriel owed him that much. Besides, his birthday was in about twenty-four hours. He'd call it a slightly early birthday present.

* * *

_Celestial City, nine hours ago._

"Why did Milligan say we had to be here?" Jo asked. She still peered out the window of Pamela Barnes's car, looking for any sign of Jessica Moore. She knew exactly where Anna was—still in class, at least for another ten minutes or so.

"He said Jess and Anna are in danger right now. He didn't say from who, but he said we need to move them."

"Alright, so where to?"

"Out of the city. I have a farm a couple hours north of here. That should be far enough away for a little while, at least."

Jo nodded once in understanding and caught sight of an irritated-looking Jessica. The cause for her irritation became readily apparent with what looked like two backpacks on her back, one strap of each over a shoulder, and a huge jacket in her arms. "Jess, what's going on?"

Jess saw her and sighed. "I don't know. Sam just bailed right at the end of Howitzer's class and told me to hang onto his stuff. That's it. I don't know where the Hell he got off to."

"Okay, let me take his backpack, then."

She gave Jo a puzzled look. "Why?"

"Um, to help you?"

"What's happening? What aren't you telling me?"

Jo looked around and sighed. "Look, just come with me, okay? I don't know the whole story yet but we need to get Anna, too. I'll tell you what I know as soon she's here, too."

Jess looked mistrustful but handed Sam's backpack over to Jo and followed her to Pamela's car.

Fifteen minutes later, Anna was bounding over to the car, following texted instructions from Jo. Once they were all piled in, Pamela looked over Anna and Jess. "Alright, ladies, here's the deal. You know all this crap that's happening with Michael and Lucifer Milligan?"

Jess and Anna nodded slowly. They'd just been talking about this the day before.

"Well, for whatever reason, Lucifer decided that he wanted to recruit Sam Winchester. You remember him, right? Well, Sam's gone. I don't know where and it's none of my business, but he's got Dean with him. Now, Dean is being hunted by Michael Milligan, because for whatever reason, Michael wants Dean on his side. Dean doesn't have any friends, but Sam has you two. This puts you in a lot of danger because Lucifer is going to stop at nothing to get Sam. Including using you two as leverage. I'm here to help keep you safe, but you have to trust me, okay?"

"Keep us safe how?" Jess asked, looking from Pamela to Jo and back.

"Well, unfortunately, I have to get you out of the city. There's a very real chance that Lucifer Milligan will get his hands on you, and if he does, you'll wish you'd come with me. I have a farm not too far from here, but it's far enough that the Milligan influence doesn't spread. So please, let me keep you safe."

Jo reached back and held Anna's hand. "Please. Both of them are vicious. I don't want anything to happen to you."

"If you agree to this, you need to give me your phones so I can destroy them. I promise I'll buy you nice, new phones after all this is over, but they can track us using them. It's better not to have them."

Anna immediately handed hers over, but Jess wasn't so easily convinced. "What happens next?"

"We get you two back to your homes for a few minutes so you can pack the essentials, and then we high-tail it out of here. I know how to keep you safe and Jo here does, too. As soon as Chuck Milligan comes back and gets this sorted out, we'll come back. I promise."

"How are you involved in all this?" Jess asked.

"If I'm going to tell you that, I need you to give me your phone."

Jess sighed and finally dug her phone out of her pocket and slapped it into Pamela's hand.

"Jo and I work for Gabriel Milligan. Gabriel's keeping the Winchesters safe. I don't know where, but I know he's working hard to do it. Jo's been undercover in Michael's camp for the last few months, but she got pulled because…"

"He thinks if they find out I'm dating you, Anna, they'll torture me. So this is my dramatic escape, too. I'm all packed. Now, are you two coming?"

Anna bit her lip and then nodded. "I'll follow you," she said. Jo grinned as Anna leaned forward and gave her a brief kiss.

"Jess?" Pamela asked. "What about you?"

Jess swallowed hard. "Alright. I'll go."

"Great." Pamela handed the phones over to Jo, who started taking out the SIM cards as Pamela put her car in drive. As Jo tossed the phones out the window, they drove off.


	13. Chapter 13

_Dubai, 9:30 AM local time._

There was a very irritating knocking on the door, and he groaned. He'd still been asleep and he didn't really feel up to answering it, but the knocking was very persistent and didn't seem like it would be going away anytime soon. With a resigned sigh, he heaved himself out of bed, fumbled for his glasses, and went to the front door of his suite.

He didn't know who would be waiting for him, but it certainly wasn't who he'd expected. He blinked, unsure if he was still asleep or not.

"Chuck!" the cheery redhead said, flinging her arms around him.

"Charlie? Is that you?" he asked, finally returning her hug. He still wasn't convinced she was real.

"Of course it is!"

"H-how did you find me?"

Charlie held him out at arm's length, laughing incredulously. "You're joking, right? We've known each other for _how_ many years, and you ask that? Please. Finding you was almost too easy."

Chuck blinked again, feeling over-exposed even with the belt of his robe tied tightly around him. He peered into the hallway. "You should come in," he said. "What time is it?" he added as she came inside and closed the door.

"Nine-thirty. I just got through customs about two hours ago. Just enough time for me to check in and find you. You know, I think the most complicated part of the whole ordeal was figuring out which hotel you were staying at, but—"

"Wait. Just wait." Chuck sank into a chair in the kitchenette area and stared at her. "How did you even know I was in Dubai?"

She held up three fingers. "Three reasons. One, when we were kids, you always talked about coming here. Two, I saw this security footage of you getting on a chartered plane to Dubai about six months ago, and then I saw you get off. By the way, that was clever. And three—and this is the biggest one—three of your kids sent envoys here to look for you."

Chuck's eyes widened. "No! I told them _not_ to look for me! Are you serious?"

She looked a bit taken aback. "Of course I'm serious. I wouldn't lie about something like that."

For a minute, Chuck appeared to curl in on himself. He fisted his hands in his hair, his shoulders hunched forward, and he groaned, his face screwed up in exasperation. "Crap," he muttered, finally letting go of his hair. It stuck out in messy tufts, contributing to his frazzled appearance. "I bet I can guess which ones, too. Michael, Lucifer, and Raphael, right?"

Charlie sighed and shook her head. "You're close, though. Michael, Lucifer, and Castiel."

"Cas? Really?"

"Yeah. He sent his people after Michael and Lucifer sent theirs, so I think he may have just been following their lead." Charlie dropped her bag on the floor next to her and sat next to him at the little table. "Look, Chuck. Your boys need you. What's going on in Celestial City… it isn't pretty. Michael and Lucifer are tearing the city apart."

"I know," Chuck murmured.

"What's this all about, anyway? Why did you leave?"

"Charlie, I can't be their referee forever. They need to learn to function without me. I can't break up every little quarrel that Michael and Lucifer bring to me."

"So this is some dramatic lesson for when you die?"

"Charlie, I'm _going_ to die. Not in the near future, I hope, but eventually, I'm going to die. Everyone does. And it's better that my boys learn to solve their disputes themselves before I go so I can at least enjoy my retirement." Chuck sighed and ran his hand over his face. "How did you know what hotel I was staying at?"

"Hacked the records. There was only one person who'd been checked in for six months. A few people have been here longer, but only one person who checked in the day you landed in Dubai was still here. I saw the ID you used to check in," she added with a smirk. "Charles Bradbury? Really?"

The corner of Chuck's mouth quirked up in a grin. "If I had known it was going to be that easy to find me, I would have used a different alias."

"It was almost laughably easy. But then again, I'm not most people. I doubt your boys know which hotel you're at. But like I said, their envoys are here. Castiel's were the last two to arrive and they just touched down a couple of hours ago. Michael's got here first. Yesterday, actually."

Chuck sighed and leaned back. "Do I want to know who they sent?"

"Probably not, but I'll tell you anyway. Michael sent Benny Robertson and Uriel Harris, Lucifer sent Fergus Crowley and Merrick Azazel, and Castiel sent Samandriel Collins and Inias Benedict. So make of that what you will."

Chuck swallowed. "I know Merrick Azazel. He's… Well, I have no idea how Lucifer makes friends with half of the sadistic people he knows, but Azazel is one of the worst."

"So what will you do if they find you? You know that Michael and Lucifer basically won't let them come back if you're not with them."

A muscle in Chuck's jaw twitched and there was suddenly a determined set to his eyes, still hidden behind his glasses. "I'm not subject to the whims of my children, Charlie. I will not return until I'm good and ready. If need be, I will tell Michael and Lucifer to recall their attack dogs. I will remind them that I am their father and that I believe them capable of solving their differences on their own. And if they even _think_ about taking me against my will, it will not be pleasant. I have been benign up to this point and I would certainly hate to change that now, but if necessity dictates I must, then I will."

Charlie looked at him sadly. "I hope it won't come to that, then."

"Yeah, me, too." He sighed and then looked at her curiously. "So what are you doing here, anyway? Why now, if it was so easy to find me?"

"I just came to see you, not convince you to come back or anything. I had a feeling you were staying away for a reason, and it was probably a good one. But I haven't seen you in such a long time. It's been almost twenty years. I wasn't sure we were friends anymore."

Chuck half-smiled. "You weren't sure we were friends anymore and you flew halfway across the world just to check?"

Charlie laughed. "Just call me impulsive. Especially with everything else that's been happening…" The laughter faded from her face. "And you're about to miss another birthday."

Chuck stared down at the table, running his fingers over the wooden surface. He nodded slowly. "You know, I originally didn't plan to stay away for this long. And I want to be back before Gabriel's birthday. His birthday was always tough on all of us, but this next one…" He sighed. "If I'm not back, I don't think he'll forgive me."

"Chuck." Charlie reached out and put her hand over his. "Listen to me. How many times have you told him it wasn't his fault? It wasn't anyone's fault. Your boys do need you—Castiel especially, I think—but if you think staying here is the right thing, then it's what you have to do."

Chuck nodded, not meeting her eyes. He stared at his wedding ring instead, wishing things had been different.

After his wife died almost twenty-seven years ago, his whole family had struggled to move on. He still wore his wedding ring, telling himself that if he ever fell in love again, he'd take it off and start over. But he never did. And he told himself it was fine, as long as his boys still had their father.

And on Gabriel's tenth birthday, he took him to where she was buried. He always had a tradition of taking each one of his children out for one-on-one time on their birthday. Gabriel had walked toward the headstone and sat down on the grass in front of it. And though it had never been explicitly told to him before, he looked up and asked Chuck, "This is my mom, isn't it?"

And Chuck had nodded and sat down next to him.

"She died the day I was born," he said slowly, as if it was just dawning on him.

Chuck nodded. "Yes," he said quietly. He put his arm around his son and pulled him close. "But she loved you very much. And I know that, if she were able to choose, she would choose you over herself every time."

Gabriel seemed to be struggling with another question. Finally, in a voice so quiet, it was practically a whisper, he asked, "Would you?"

Chuck let out a long sigh and kissed the top of Gabriel's head. "Yes, Gabriel. I would." He shifted slightly and pulled a simple silver chain out of his pocket, much like the chains that typically had dog tags. Instead of dog tags, though, hanging from the chain was a plain gold band that hadn't been worn in ten years. "Here," he said, slipping it over Gabriel's head. "That ring belonged to your mother. I think she would have wanted you to have it."

And Gabriel didn't stop staring at that ring for the rest of the day. As far as Chuck knew, he hadn't taken it off since then; he was still wearing it.

Chuck wondered how much different their lives would have been if she'd survived. They probably would have adopted a little girl after Castiel. He'd always been partial to the idea of having a daughter, but without his wife, he didn't feel equipped to care for one. He wondered how much different his boys would have been, if she could have calmed Michael and Lucifer, if he would be sitting in this suite right now. Probably not.

"Well, look," Charlie said finally. "I don't understand it necessarily, but I'll help you out. Your boys remember me, right?"

Chuck nodded. "They should."

"Alright, then. How about I meet up with their dispatches and sort of… steer them in the wrong direction?"

He felt himself start to smile. "Really? You would lie to them for me?"

She threw her arms out and shrugged dramatically. "Yes, I would. Because you think you're doing the right thing and that's good enough for me."

"They're dangerous. Benny and Uriel and Crowley and Azazel. Samandriel and Inias are fine, I think, but the others are definitely dangerous."

Charlie nodded. "I know. I've seen what they can do. But I think I can handle them. I'll tell them you went to Egypt or something and then I'll get the Hell out of here."

Chuck laughed softly. "If you're absolutely sure, it would make my life a little easier."

"No problem, Chuckie." She looked him over once. "Random change of subject, but were you asleep?"

* * *

_Celestial City, 12:30 AM local time._

Dean had heard the exchange between Castiel and Gabriel. Part of him had wanted to go out there and try to calm them down, but he knew that if it was him and Sam fighting, he wouldn't want an almost-total stranger getting involved. In fact, he'd be pretty damn pissed off. So he stayed in the living room, drinking the beer that Gabriel had handed to him, and thanking God Sam fell asleep early. The long day and running around had taken its toll on both of them, and Sam had crashed hard on the pull-out bed.

He wasn't even sure what he was overhearing could be considered a fight. It seemed like the original point of contention was whether or not Gabriel was a killer, which was obvious. Of course he was. Gabriel wasn't denying that. He was explaining it, though, and Dean could sort of understand how Castiel may have been shocked to discover his brothers were capable of murder. But didn't he read the papers? If Castiel's classification of Gabriel as a killer was because he'd ordered a hit, then why was it so surprising? Michael and Lucifer had done the same thing, after all.

The sliding door opened again, and Castiel reentered the house. Dean immediately looked up. "Hey, Cas," he said slowly. He was pretty sure he'd heard his name being thrown around a bit in the spat, but he wasn't sure.

"Hello, Dean," Castiel murmured, his eyes flicking to Dean before looking back down.

"Are you okay?" Dean asked, standing up and slowly walking toward him. There was a tired, beaten look in the younger man's face that didn't quite belong. The truth was, it scared him a bit.

"I don't know." He continued to stare at his shoes. "Three days ago, I wasn't convinced that any of my brothers were capable of anything like this. Two days ago, I was sure that Lucifer's obsession with besting Michael was an isolated goal. Yesterday, I thought that Michael and Lucifer might still be able to resolve this even though they seem Hell-bent on tearing our families apart. And tomorrow night, I'm going against every directive my father ever gave me, disregarding my own family, to save two people I know barely anything about with a brother I barely recognize." He finally looked up. "Should I be okay, Dean?"

Dean swallowed. "I guess not. I didn't really… I guess I didn't consider everything you were leaving behind. But Gabriel… he's not a bad guy. He cares about the people in this city. That's why he took it upon himself to put some vigilante justice in place. He's doing the best he can, which is pretty impressive, considering so many people are working against him. He's trying."

"You don't know my brother."

"I can almost guarantee you I've seen a side or two of him that you haven't seen. Just because I know him less doesn't mean you know him more." He thought about that. "I mean… fuck. What I'm trying to say is, I don't know him as well as you do. But neither of us completely know what he's like. Understand?"

Castiel nodded slowly. "I believe so. It's just very difficult to think you know someone and discover you don't. I've known Gabriel for twenty-three years and I thought I knew all there was to know about him. But I learned something new tonight. It's going to be very difficult to accept it." His bright blue eyes locked with Dean's, and a beat passed before he spoke. "How did Sam react?"

"React?"

"When you told him what you do?"

Dean swallowed. "He doesn't know. We've kind of… we had this arrangement where I don't tell him crap about what I do and who I work with or work for, and he stays completely uninvolved in this. But it didn't work out so well, I guess. Left Sam right open for Lucifer to jump all over him. I should have warned him about that, at least."

"Yes. Lucifer has a certain charisma about him, a charm that people respond to. For the most part, he's able to get his way quite easily. Michael has usually relied on force and coercion, but Lucifer is more subtle than that. In a way, their choices of which of you they prefer are indicative of that."

"Y-yeah, I guess."

"As for Gabriel, it may be awhile before I can accept this new aspect of him, but… he _is_ my brother. And I love him." He sighed. "I love all of my brothers. That's why it's so difficult for me to watch them destroy each other. Gabriel feels the same way. But instead of trying to remain civil with both of them as I did, he seemed to believe that they were a lost cause and left us. He couldn't bear it, either. I thought there was hope for them, but now…"

Dean couldn't even imagine being in the same situation as him. It appeared that they'd both been raised to put family first, had it drummed into them by their fathers, and now Castiel was going against that. Dean didn't think he'd ever be able to do something like that—choose someone else over Sam. Maybe it was because Sam was all the family he had now—he had no other siblings and both of his parents were dead—but the thought was almost vomit-inducing. No, he wouldn't be able to do it. He didn't know how Castiel did. "Thank you," he said softly. Part of him wanted to pull Castiel into a tight hug, but Castiel didn't seem like a very "huggy" person, so he restrained himself. "I still don't fully understand why you're helping us, but I appreciate it. I don't know what I'd do if I lost Sam."

Castiel half-smiled. "Hopefully, you won't have to contemplate that for quite some time." He put his hand out and let trail down Dean's forearm as he started to walk away.

Dean reacted on instinct. As soon as Castiel's hand reached his, he caught it and pulled the younger man back to him, wrapping his other arm around him. Pinned against his chest, Castiel looked up at him, his eyes wide but definitely not fearful. _That's the boss's little brother_ , Dean reminded himself again. And then he told himself to shut up. He traced his fingertips down Castiel's cheek, trying to memorize by sight and by touch the perfect angles of his face. Even with the stubble that did nothing to age him, Castiel suddenly reminded him of an angel. Those pink, slightly-chapped lips of his looked so inviting, so soft. He couldn't help wondering if they were as sweet as they looked.

_Only one way to find out._ Still cupping his cheek, he pressed his lips to Castiel's to discover that, yes, they really were as perfect as they looked. He moved his palm from Castiel's cheek to his hair, keeping their mouths locked together, but the youngest Milligan didn't seem to be in any rush to end the kiss. Both of his arms were around Dean's neck and their bodies were flush. Dean could still smell the cold on Castiel's skin but it was fading fast, giving way to the heat rising between them. Tracing his tongue over Castiel's lips, he thought dizzily that nothing could ruin this moment.

And then the sliding door opened behind them and they broke apart and turned around to see a highly amused Gabriel grinning at them. "Please, don't let me interrupt," he joked. "Just be sure to get to bed at a reasonable hour," he added as he sailed past them.


	14. Chapter 14

_Dubai, 5:45 PM local time._

Inias blinked at the trio chatting across the street. He definitely recognized the two men, Benny Robertson and Uriel Harris. They worked for Michael. He knew that for sure. But he didn't know who the red-haired woman talking to them was.

He nudged Samandriel with his elbow. "Hey," he murmured. "Look over there. That woman look familiar to you?"

Both of them had been sweltering in the heat, nearly perspiring through their suits, and Samandriel had nearly fallen asleep. For all Inias's immunity to jet lag, Samandriel seemed hyper-susceptible in comparison. But the moment Inias jostled him, the blonde opened his eyes and looked in the direction his counterpart had indicated.

"You mean the one talking to Benny and Uriel?"

"Who else would I be talking about?" Inias chided gently.

Samandriel rolled his eyes but didn't say anything about it. "I don't know, but they seem like they know her."

"I'll call Castiel. Can you get a picture of her?"

"Yeah." Samandriel dug his phone out of his pocket and, as surreptitiously as he could, zoomed in until he was able to get a clear shot of the redhead.

"Castiel, sir," he heard Inias say beside him. "Good morning. We have visual contact of Michael's operatives. They're talking to a woman across the street who we don't recognize, but they do. Samandriel has a photo of her—" here, he waved his hand to indicate that he should send it to Castiel "—and is sending it to you as we speak."

"Good, thank you," came Castiel Milligan's voice from the other end of the line. After a few moments of silence, there was a sharp inhale. "Wait for her. Do whatever you need to do to talk to her. She's one of my father's friends. Her name is Charlene Bradbury, but she goes by Charlie. If she's there, she definitely knows where my father is, and you need to find out exactly what she told Michael's agents."

"Understood," Inias said with another glance at Samandriel. "I'll report back as soon as possible." He hung up and set his phone on the table. "I assume you heard all that?"

Samandriel nodded. "Yes, I did."

"Well, then. I guess we wait."

After a few minutes of thoughtful silence, Samandriel spoke up. "Do you think Lucifer Milligan's agents have already made contact with her?"

Inias fixed him with a puzzled look. He had to admit, he hadn't thought of that. "I don't know. I haven't seen them around—have you?"

The blonde shook his head. "No, I haven't. But they've got to be around here somewhere."

Inias nodded gravely. "Keep an eye out for them."

Next to him, Samandriel tensed up. Inias scanned up and down the street for any sign of Fergus Crowley and Merrick Azazel until he felt Samandriel smack his arm.

"Wha—" The word didn't even finish forming before he froze. _Oh._ Standing right behind Samandriel with a knife to his throat was Crowley, looking quite smug.

"Yeah," Samandriel said hoarsely to his counterpart, but looking up anxiously at Crowley.

Inias turned in his seat to confirm that, yes, Azazel was right behind _him_. This was definitely not good.

"Hello, boys," Crowley said cheerfully. "Fancy seeing you halfway across the world. And right across the street from Michael's men. What a fortuitous string of events."

"We're just following orders," Inias hissed, starting to rise, but Azazel clapped a hand on his shoulder and forced him back in his seat.

"So are we, darling. Nothing personal at all."

Samandriel's eyes widened in terror as Crowley pressed his knife a little harder against his throat.

"Excuse me, hi," a female voice said, taking all four of them by surprise. Charlie Bradbury had crossed the street, leaving Benny Robertson and Uriel Harris at the table by themselves, looking on with amused expressions. "Fergus, could you do me a favor and put down the knife, please? I don't think anyone would be happy if you hurt this young man."

Crowley's mouth opened and closed several times before he finally did as Charlie asked.

"Thank you. Now, then. I'm Charlie Bradbury, and I am a friend of your bosses' father."

Suddenly, all eyes were on her with rapt attention.

"Ooh, good. I'm so glad we're starting to listen. If you're looking for Chuck Milligan, you're looking in the wrong place. He hasn't been in Dubai in three months."

"We were just told to come here to look. He got on a plane here, but he never got off," Azazel said.

Charlie gave him a puzzled look. "He _was_ here. But like I said, he left. He went to Egypt. That's actually what I was explaining to Benny and Uriel back there. Of course, I felt as though I should intervene here because their boss probably wouldn't be too happy with _your_ boss if you hurt them."

Crowley scoffed lightly. "Our boss is—"

"I know who your boss is. And I know who their boss is. And I'm telling you that you should not underestimate Castiel Milligan. He's tougher than he seems." She looked at the four of them for a few moments. "Now then, are there any other questions I can answer for you, or are you good now?"

* * *

_Celestial City, 9:30 AM local time._

"You okay?" Gabriel asked.

Castiel looked up from the kitchen table. He'd been tapping his phone to his lips anxiously, lost in thought. He'd apparently slept in his suit, judging by the wrinkles and the haphazard disarray. "I… I don't know." He looked at his phone, as though it could reveal the secrets of the universe. "Inias just called me back. He tells me that Fergus Crowley held a knife to Samandriel's throat while they were waiting to speak to Charlie and—"

"Charlie? Charlie Bradbury?"

"Yes. She's in Dubai, and Inias and Samandriel saw her talking to Michael's agents."

Gabriel took a seat at the kitchen table across from Castiel. "What happened?"

Castiel swallowed. "Well, Charlie noticed before anyone could do any damage. She came over to them and told them that Dad went to Egypt. Inias tells me that Crowley and Azazel left almost immediately afterward, probably to head out there."

"So what's the problem? If Dad's in Egypt… I mean, you still want to bring him back, right?"

"I do," Castiel said carefully. "But Crowley very nearly slit Samandriel's throat, from my understanding." He sighed. "Inias and Samandriel are my friends. I nearly got one of them killed today. I'm not so anxious to put him in that same situation again."

"You weren't holding the knife," Gabriel said quietly.

"They're there on my orders, though. If something were to happen to one of them, I would blame myself."

Gabriel sighed and drummed his fingers on the table. "So what are you gonna do about them?"

"I don't know," he said finally. "I told them to wait. They've already checked into a hotel and they extended their reservation for another three days, so hopefully I can think of something by then."

"What else would you do?"

"Bring them home. I want Dad to come back, but he can take care of himself. Inias and Samandriel are another story. I'm just glad Charlie intervened when she did."

Gabriel was quiet for a few moments and he absently began sliding the ring on the chain around his neck. Finally, he tucked it back under his T-shirt. "Look, Cas. About yesterday. I… I know you don't think I'm right, and that's fine. But for what it's worth, I think you're doing the right thing. You weren't cut out to be like me or Lucifer or Michael or even Raphael. Dad did the best he could with us and I think by the time he got to you, he knew what he was doing. You're lucky, you know. You got to keep that innocence. But you were always the best of us anyway."

"Nothing made you do this, Gabriel. You could have done anything else."

His older brother scoffed lightly. "Nah, not me. I've been a killer all my life."

Castiel shook his head. "One act—that you had no control over, by the way—doesn't define who you are for the rest of your life."

Gabriel shrugged. "Maybe. But I'm not sure I was ever innocent like you." He sighed. "Maybe you should just have Samandriel and Inias come back. They _are_ your friends. You don't have many of those anymore. You should hang onto the ones you have."

Castiel nodded sadly. "I believe you're right. But right now, my primary concern is getting out of here. What time did you want to leave here?"

"Eight, I think. Maybe seven-thirty. Just as soon as it gets dark, we'll be able to take off. It's not safe right now."

"What needs to be done before we leave?" Castiel asked, straightening in his seat.

"I think Sam and Dean are ready to go right now, but you still need to pack, don't you?"

He nodded.

"Then you should go do that now. The sooner, the better. Just the essentials, and a few extra blankets. The generator up there hasn't been run in awhile, so it may not start right away."

"What about those two friends of Sam's? Jessica Moore and Anna Milton?"

"I pulled Jo from Michael's circle the night before last and she and another one of my agents got Jessica and Anna out of the city last night. They'll be safe for awhile and as soon as Dad comes back, I think it'll be safe for them to come back, too."

"Alright. Then I'll go now." He stood up. "I'll return as soon as possible."

"Yeah."

Castiel went to one of the kitchen drawers and pulled Gabriel's car keys out. With a subtle wave, he went back outside through the garage.

Gabriel took a few minutes to run his fingers through his hair before he did anything. It would be probably be the last time in a long time when he wasn't running, and the thought shook him. After all, it wasn't just Castiel who going against the family—it was him, too. He knew he was doing the right thing—Michael and Lucifer could do far more damage to the city and to each other with the Winchesters—but it was only some small consolation. It would still be one of the most difficult things he'd ever done.

His phone rang and he very nearly rolled his eyes until he saw who it was. "Singer?" He hadn't heard much from Bobby Singer or Balthazar Roché in a few weeks, aside from the now-obvious information that Lucifer wanted Sam.

"Mr. Milligan, thank God. I just got word from Roché that Lucifer is planning on dropping by your house tonight."

Gabriel's blood ran cold and the hairs on his bare arms rose. This was decidedly not good. "Why?"

"He didn't say exactly. Something about his birthday and…"

"Fuck," he muttered. He should have known that his brothers would only put up with his silent treatment for so long before one of them hunted _him_ down. "Is he coming by himself?"

"No. It's gonna be Roman, Roché, me, and a few other people there."

Gabriel let out a string of curses. Balthazar and Bobby being there was a good thing—sort of—but the "few other people" and Roman were bad news. "Alright, fuck. People higher than you, lower than you, what?"

"What, you mean, is he bringing people who typically do his dirty work?"

"Yeah."

"That'd be me and Roché."

"Okay, hang on." Gabriel stuck his head out of the kitchen. Sam and Dean were looking at him curiously. Heart racing, he went out to the garage and closed the door behind him.

* * *

"What's that all about?" Sam asked.

Dean shook his head. "No idea."

Sam was still sitting on the pull-out bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He didn't think he'd ever slept for fourteen consecutive hours before, but the combination of their exhausting previous day and finally being somewhere he felt completely safe—even if he didn't know why—was enough to have him out for hours. But, then, they'd all need all the rest they could get. He wondered how much sleep Dean had gotten.

"Well, since he's not in the kitchen anymore, you hungry?" Dean asked.

"Yeah."

As Dean went to the kitchen, Sam rolled out of bed and made it up as neatly as he could. Gabriel probably wouldn't care since it would be a long time before he was back, but Sam still had a bit of a neat-freak tendency.

Once the bed was safely stowed away, he sat on the couch for a few minutes, wishing he still had his computer. He wondered if Jess and Anna had been able to get to safety. Mostly, though, he wondered if he would ever see them again.

He picked himself up and went to the kitchen, where Dean was putting the finishing touches on two tall sandwiches. Sam couldn't help snorting with laughter. "Some breakfast," he joked.

"Hey, I don't see you coming up with any better ideas. Besides," Dean added, the laughter draining from his face a bit, "this could be the last time in a long time I can make you a sandwich."

"I'm sure there'll be plenty of sandwiches in our future."

"I hope." Dean set the plates down on the table. "We need pie. Think if I asked, we could get some pie before we leave?"

Sam shrugged, involuntarily glancing at the door to the garage. He could faintly hear Gabriel's voice, but he couldn't tell what he was saying. "I don't know. He's _your_ boss."

Dean dug into his sandwich and began munching happily. Sam didn't know how Dean stayed so laid-back under the circumstances, but he was envious.

By the time Gabriel came back into the house, shivering slightly, Dean was nearly finished with his second sandwich and Sam had already rinsed his plate off and hunted through the cupboards until he found where his brother's boss stored them. Gabriel looked surprised to see them in the kitchen.

"Hungry?" Dean asked once he'd swallowed enough of his bite to speak coherently.

"Not really. I'll eat later." Gabriel glanced at his watch. "I need to pack up. If you guys need anything before we leave, let me know. Cas is out right now and I can have him get something."

"Pie. We need pie."

Gabriel blinked. "Are you joking, Winchester?"

"No, he's serious," Sam said, trying not to laugh.

Gabriel looked at Sam and a smile began to tug at the corner of his mouth. "Alright, Winchester," he said to Dean. "We'll get you some damn pie. What kind?"

"Cherry," Dean said, looking triumphant.

* * *

Castiel returned a few hours later, a cherry pie in one hand and a duffle bag in the other. He'd changed out of his rumpled suit in favor of a blue sweater and jeans. "Why did you move the Impala?" he asked, nodding to the window where the Impala could be seen on the street.

"We're leaving in an hour," Gabriel said quickly, fidgeting with his necklace again. "As soon as the sun sets. I just want to be ready to go."

Castiel could hear the tremor in his voice. Even though neither Sam nor Dean had any reason to question him, Castiel had known Gabriel long enough to sense when he was worried. "What happened?" he asked quietly.

"Lucifer's coming by tonight," he said finally. "I just want to be out of here before he arrives, that's all."

"I see." Castiel set the pie in front of Dean, who was sitting across from Gabriel and next to Sam at the table. "And you still think it's not safe to leave now?"

Gabriel shook his head. "Car sticks out too much. Under the cover of darkness is still better. We just have a little less time than I initially thought." He looked Castiel over.

"Where's your phone?"

"I left it at home. No need for it now."

"Good. You got your house all locked up?"

"Yes. I stopped my mail, too."

Gabriel half-smiled. "It's a good thing I don't get mail, then."

* * *

_Dubai, 1:30 AM local time._

Samandriel was still so jet-lagged and so wired from that afternoon that he wasn't able to sleep at all. Nearly dying had scared the holy crap out of him and it still felt like four-thirty in the afternoon to him, so he went to the balcony of his and Inias's shared second-story hotel room and waited for the night air to have some sort of soothing effect on him. It was useless, though. He didn't know how Inias had managed to adjust so quickly, but it would probably take him until the day they left from him to really sync up to the local time.

He was homesick, too. He'd been gone for less than two days, but he wanted to go back. That, he supposed, was more an effect of having his life threatened within twenty-four hours of arriving than anything else. He was so far out of his comfort zone here. He hoped that the reason Castiel didn't immediately instruct them to go onto Egypt was because he was thinking about bringing them home. The other four—Benny and Uriel and Azazel and Crowley—had already gone ahead, but he and Inias were still here in Dubai. He had no desire to run into Crowley especially in the near future.

Samandriel sighed and stared at the street. A flash of movement caught his eye, and when he looked closer, he saw that same woman from earlier, Charlie Bradbury. She was with someone else, a shorter man. He looked suspiciously like…

"Oh, my God," he breathed. He dashed back into the room for a minute to grab his camera. He switched it to a night-friendly setting and managed to capture three images—one of Charlie and the man, and two just of him. Yes, that was definitely Chuck Milligan.

"Inias!" Samandriel hissed, shaking his counterpart awake.

"What?" he mumbled sleepily.

"She lied! Charlie Bradbury—she lied!"

"Wha…? What're you talking about?"

"Look!" Samandriel turned the screen of the digital camera toward him. "That is definitely Chuck Milligan."

Waking up now, Inias stared at the pictures for almost a minute. "Call Castiel."

* * *

_Celestial City, 4:30 PM local time._

On Castiel's nightstand, his abandoned phone buzzed to alert its missing owner of an incoming call.


	15. Chapter 15

Lucifer straightened every line of perfect white suit. Even though he knew his brothers didn't really give a fuck how he looked, he cared and his appearance was important to him. Besides, even with this conflict between him and Michael, his birthday was in a few hours and he intended to have a good time. If he was lucky, they'd find Sam Winchester tomorrow, which would pretty much make his day.

He turned to Balthazar and grinned, spreading his arms. "How do I look?"

The blonde looked him over, the blank look melting from his face. A small smile tugged at his mouth. "You look good, sir," he said.

Lucifer continued grinning, turning back around. He'd never admit it out loud, but he secretly enjoyed his lover's reassurances. He could almost convince himself that Balthazar meant it and wasn't just trying to stroke his ego. It had become one of his favorite fantasies.

"Well," he said finally, running a comb through his hair once, "shall we go pay my brother a visit?"

The blank, neutral look slid back onto Balthazar's face as he nodded. Lucifer led the way out of the suite and into the hallway.

* * *

Dean had moved into the living room to watch some TV. He'd been too nervous to sit still with no distraction, and Castiel had joined him a few minutes later. Sam had tried to watch, but he couldn't. A nameless dread had settled into his stomach and he couldn't shake it. Finally, he gave up on sitting still and went back into the kitchen.

Gabriel looked as nervous as he felt. He was pacing the kitchen and physically trying to restrain himself from peeking out the closed blinds. It almost would have been funny if the situation weren't so serious.

"Gabe, it's fine," Sam said softly.

The shorter man looked at him intently, and in the golden light of the dying day, his eyes seemed more intensely golden than ever. "Not yet, Sammy. It's not fine yet."

Sam registered the use of his nickname but found he didn't mind it so much from Gabriel. "Well, it's _going_ to be fine."

"You really think that, don't you?"

"Of course." Sam tried to smile reassuringly. "You're with us, and you seem to have a pretty good handle on things."

Gabriel returned Sam's half-hearted smile. "You've got a lot of faith in someone you just met yesterday."

"You're helping us, Gabe. And I know Dean trusts you. Why wouldn't I?" By now, Sam was only about a foot away from him and he was pretty sure Gabriel hadn't blinked once. Not blinking often seemed to be a family trait, now that he thought about it. Castiel certainly seemed to have mastered the art of the unblinking stare.

"I don't know. There's a lot that's… It's complicated. You really think we're gonna be okay?"

Sam's smile widened a bit. "Yeah, I do."

The smile on Gabriel's face widened a bit. "Well, if you're sure, then I guess I can live with that." Suddenly, he stood on his tiptoes and, grabbing Sam by his shirt, pulled him close and kissed him.

Sam found himself leaning into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Gabriel, and leaning down to make it easier for the shorter man to meet his mouth. Gabriel's lips felt surprisingly good against his and for a few moments, the madness around them faded to mere background noise.

He became vaguely aware of a faint jingling sound, and a moment later he felt something slipping over his head and hitting the back of his neck. When Gabriel pulled away, still smiling, Sam looked down.

It was a chain with a ring on it. He looked up, but before he could even ask, Gabriel said, "Hold onto that for me, will you?" He reached up and tucked it under Sam's shirt, placing another quick peck on his lips. He checked his watch. "It's almost time to go," he added softly. He sidestepped Sam and went into the living room, plucking his jacket off the kitchen table as he went.

Dean and Castiel looked at him as he entered the living room. "We leaving?" Dean asked finally.

"In a minute." Gabriel glanced over to where Sam was hovering in the archway to the living room and motioned for him to come in. "We need to go over a few things first. First, Cas. You still remember where the safehouse is?"

"Yes," he said slowly, looking puzzled.

"Good. Just making sure. So basically, it's a two-hour drive to get there. Dean, I know how possessive you are of your car, so I'm just gonna ride shotgun. When we get there, I've got a fridge stocked with food that won't go bad for awhile and a lot of non-perishables, and there's stuff in the freezer, too. There's a generator in an auxiliary shed that's off but provides power to the whole house. Also, the solar panels on the roof should provide a lot of power as well. There's a satellite phone, and three bedrooms and two bathrooms, so sleeping arrangements shouldn't be too complicated. We should be good there for a month or so before we run out of food."

"What about movies?" Dean asked, looking nearly horrified.

Gabriel snorted. "Yes, Winchester. You will not go out of your mind with boredom. I have a TV up there with probably any movie you can think of. And I have a bunch of books for those of you with more of an intellectual inclination."

Sam felt his mouth twitching up in a smile. He was fairly certain that comment was directed at him.

"But I have a feeling it won't be too much longer before Dad returns, so it probably won't make much of a difference."

"You really think Dad will come back soon?"

"When he finds out two of his sons disappeared? Yeah, I think he'll come back pretty quick. Anything else before we blow this joint?" If any of them thought it was strange that he was going over this now, they didn't mention it.

When no one asked any more questions, Gabriel nodded, swinging his jacket over his shoulders and zipping it over his white T-shirt. "Okay. Now get your stuff. Let's get out of here."

Castiel smoothly rose from his seat where he'd been sitting next to Dean, picking up his bag and heading to the door after Gabriel and Sam. Dean turned off the TV and grabbed his jacket.

Gabriel looked at them all for a moment before he pulled Castiel into an awkward hug before letting him go.

"Um, are you okay?" Castiel asked, shooting him a concerned look.

Gabriel nodded. "Yeah, of course." He popped a couple of red candies into his mouth, grinned at them, winked at Sam, and opened the front door.

They were halfway to the car when two sets of headlights cut through the dark. Sam felt the bottom drop out of his stomach, the dark foreboding sense amplifying. Gabriel tensed up. "Fuck," he muttered. "I think that's Lucifer." _We're too late._ Louder, he said, "Go! Move!"

The two cars stopped about ten feet behind them and five people got out. "Gabriel. And is that Sam Winchester I see?" Lucifer's ice-cold voice called out.

"Damn," Gabriel breathed. Suddenly, his expression resolved into one of disdainful defiance. "Lucifer," he called, approaching his brother. "It's been awhile."

Even in the darkness, Castiel could hear the smirk in Lucifer's voice. "That was supposed to be _my_ line. After all, you're the one who won't return my calls. But look! Castiel seems to have been in constant contact. So, let's see. That's two brothers who claimed they were staying neutral, a Winchester I want, and a Winchester my brother wants all in one place. This reeks suspiciously like betrayal, Gabriel. Does Michael know about this?"

"Of course Michael doesn't know," Gabriel practically spat. "You think I'd let him in on this? Please. If he were here, I'd kick his ass, too."

"I really don't get you, Gabriel. You said you were staying neutral—or at least, I thought you were, since neither Michael nor I have been able to contact you. But you've been harboring the Winchesters. Why?" Lucifer sounded genuinely confused.

" _Why_? You have the gall to ask me _why_? You and Michael are destroying this family! Has it ever occurred to you that Dad's been staying away because of your fighting? The longer this goes on, the longer he stays away from us! You are keeping him away!"

"You can't know that. None of us have _any_ idea why Dad is gone! And he left no instructions when he left! Face it, Gabriel! For all intents and purposes, Dad is dead!"

"Really? After that message a few days ago? You're so convinced he's not coming back? Well, I don't know what he told you, but he told me that he plans on coming back."

"When? When will it be enough? Haven't we proven to him that we need him?"

"Actually, we've proven to him that we're completely dependent on him, and don't you realize how messed-up that is? You're twenty-nine years old and you still need your father to tell you what to do! He couldn't do it anymore! You broke him, Lucifer!" The words were flying out of his mouth. There was no way he could stop them anymore. "But why would that surprise you? You destroy everything! Everything you touch, you break! You and Michael both, but you especially! You destroyed Dad, you destroyed Michael, you destroyed Raphael, and you destroyed me! I'm willing to bet you're destroying Meg, too!"

He couldn't be completely sure, but he thought he saw Lucifer glance toward Balthazar for a moment. "You don't know what you're talking about!" Lucifer yelled back. "I helped build this city! I've destroyed _nothing_! You're the one who has your little lapdog performing alleyway executions! You're the destroyer, not me! It's _your_ fault our mother is dead!"

A muscle in Gabriel's jaw twitched. "That was not my fault! You can't blame a baby for that! I've moved past that, Lucifer! Why can't you?"

"I have! I just can't figure out why you're putting _them_ over your family! You and Castiel both, turning your backs on our family for two strangers! How can you do this to us? We're your brothers! We're your family! What are they? Absolutely nothing to us."

"Says the man who tried to recruit Sam Winchester. But that's not what this is about, is it? It's about destroying _their_ family now that ours is ruined! But I'm not going to let that happen! I'm not going to let you break Sam and Dean Winchester. I can't let you destroy another family!"

Sam could only stare helplessly as Gabriel and Lucifer Milligan exchanged words. Part of him wanted to intervene, but Dean was grabbing both him and Castiel and pulling them gently toward the car. They were inching away, but Sam didn't want to move. They couldn't just leave Gabriel here. That would be insane!

"I'm trying to bring our father back! And what have you been doing? Plotting against me! Plotting against _Michael_! Hell, Gabriel, it's like you don't even want our father back, do you? If you did, you'd be trying to help us! One of us, either of us! It doesn't matter! But no, you've been hiding, waiting for all of this to end!"

"Because you and Michael are destroying each other! How can you expect me to watch that decimation? How can you expect me to _help_ one of you? No, I'm not having any part of that!"

Lucifer crossed his arms over his chest, sneering. "You are so disloyal, it actually makes my stomach turn," he spat.

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Lucifer, you're my brother, and I love you, but you are a great big bag of dicks."

Lucifer's arms dropped. " _What_ did you just say to me?"

Dean smacked Sam's arm. The younger Winchester looked behind him to see Castiel sliding into the passenger's seat. The driver's-side rear door was open and Dean was halfway in the driver's seat. Sam had no idea how, but Lucifer was fully focused on harassing Gabriel.

"We're not leaving him," Sam said as he closed his door as quietly as possible.

"Of course we're not leaving him. He's just giving us a distraction," Dean said, looking into the rearview at the scene. "He'll be in here in a second and it'll take them a good thirty seconds to chase after us. I can lose them by then."

"You heard me!"

"Watch your tone!"

"Play the victim all you want!" Gabriel answered Lucifer as Dean started up the Impala with an almighty rumble. The strawberry blonde suddenly seemed to remember the Winchesters as Gabriel began inching backwards. "But I've found a family that's not quite beyond saving as ours."

"Don't you dare," Lucifer said warningly, drawing a pistol and leveling it with Gabriel's head.

"Oh, my God," Castiel breathed, turning in his seat to stare out the rear window. "No!"

"He'll be fine," Dean said, but there was definitely a tremor in his voice. "He isn't gonna shoot him."

Gabriel spread his arms defiantly, almost daring Lucifer. "Do it. Shoot your own brother. What'll it prove? That Dad was wrong about us. He's been gone six months and we're pointing guns at each other. This isn't how he wants us to behave!"

"Don't make me do this, brother," Lucifer said, almost too softly to hear.

"No one makes us do anything."

"I know you think you're doing the right thing, but I know where your heart truly lies." In one smooth motion, Lucifer lowered his aim and shot Gabriel in the heart.

As if in slow motion, Castiel and Sam could only watch helplessly as the impact jerked Gabriel half-around, blood already flying out of his mouth. He fell, spread-eagle and motionless, onto the grass, and Sam heard himself involuntarily scream, "NO!"

"Fuck!" Dean yelled, slamming on the gas pedal.

In the rapidly-receding scene, Sam continued watching out of the rear window, breathing, "No, no, no, no!" He saw Lucifer approaching Gabriel's body, putting his gun away as he looked over his brother's form.

"We have to go back!" Castiel nearly yelled, turning in his seat to face Dean. He looked close to hysteria, which didn't surprise the older Winchester.

"And do what? Get his body? He died trying to keep us safe, Cas!" He realized how sharp his voice sounded and he cleared his throat. When he spoke next, his tone had softened considerably. "If we go back, we'll just put all of us in danger. He wouldn't want that for any of us." He took a moment to look at Castiel, who was facing forward again. His eyes were swimming with tears. "Cas, I'm sorry. I really am. But I need you to keep your head right now. We need to get to the safehouse."

Castiel nodded as a few tears spilled over and down his cheeks. "Get onto the highway," he said shakily, wiping at his face with his sweater sleeves.

Sam was sitting sideways in the backseat, his back against the left interior wall. His legs were drawn up to his chest and he stared at the empty seat across from him. It didn't seem possible that, just a few minutes ago, there was four of them. There was a deep, sad aching in his chest and he felt sick. It was because of them that Gabriel was dead. How could they possibly go on without him?

"He… he had this necklace," Castiel was murmuring, just loud enough for them to hear. "My father gave it to him on his tenth birthday. It was a chain with his mother's wedding ring on it."

Sam's ears perked up and he fished the chain out of his shirt. The ring was a simple gold band and could easily have belonged to a woman.

"He never took it off. I… I don't know what Lucifer is going to do to Gabriel's body, but I hope he doesn't just let that necklace go with him. My dad will want…" His voice faltered, and suddenly, his tears were coming faster. His hands over his eyes, he slumped against the door and let out a broken sob. "Oh, my God. My dad. What's my dad going to say?"

Sam swallowed and pulled the chain over his head. "Is this the necklace that Gabriel wore?" he asked, holding it out to Castiel. He was pretty sure he knew the answer, anyway.

Castiel peeked out from between his fingers and wiped at his eyes again. He examined the band and the chain without touching them and finally nodded. "Yes. That was it." He looked up and Sam with sheer bewilderment on his face and when Sam glanced in the rearview, Dean was giving him a curious look, too. "How did you get that?" Castiel asked softly.

"H-he gave it to me. He… he asked me to hold onto it for him. I…" Sam held it closer to Castiel. "Here. You should—"

Through his red eyes, Castiel stared at him for a moment and then shook his head. "No. If he asked you to hold onto it, he intended for you to have it." As Sam pulled it back and slipped the chain back over his head, Castiel stared out the windshield without really seeing. "Oh, God," he murmured. "He knew. Somehow, he knew this was going to happen. He knew he was going to die."

"How could he know?" Dean asked softly.

"I… I don't know. I mean, I know he knew Lucifer was on his way. But he… I don't know."

Sam let his head rest on the seat back and stared out the rear window, watching the streetlights and other cars. He tried not to think about anything, tried not to remember that he was the last person Gabriel had kissed, tried not to dwell on the fact that, if Castiel was right, Gabriel had known he was heading out to face his death. And the little bastard had still smiled as he did it.

He tried not to think about it, but he failed. After a moment, there were tears sliding down his face, too.


	16. Chapter 16

Once they were clear of the city, Dean slowed the Impala down to about sixty miles per hour and kept it there. There wasn't as big of a need to rush anymore, and none of them really wanted to get out of the car to face the cold, ugly truth of Gabriel's absence. It ended up taking about two and a half hours to get to the safehouse out in the countryside, a very quiet two and a half hours. Every once in awhile, one of them would let out a sigh, and the other two would remember that they were all thinking the same thing: this was wrong.

Dean, for his part, had been initially surprised to discover that there was an immediate attraction between his younger brother and his boss, but as he thought about it, he realized he didn't care that much. Gabriel had given a lot for them, and if Sam had been okay with it…

But it didn't matter anymore.

"Turn off here," Castiel murmured as Dean dropped his speed to thirty-five and saw the dirt road Castiel indicated. He nodded once and did as instructed, seeing the fairly large house swing into sight.

It was definitely out-of-the-way. They'd been cruising down country roads for the last forty-five minutes and Dean didn't know how Castiel knew his way in the dark, but this was it. It was bigger than his actual home, but for that, Dean was grateful. It had been a little cramped in his house back in the city.

As they finally climbed out of the Impala, Castiel froze.

"What?" Dean asked.

"The key. I don't… Gabriel had the key."

"Fuck, are you sure?"

Castiel began patting down his jacket pockets. "Yes, I…" He paused and withdrew his right hand from his pocket. "Oh." In the clear moonlight, a small silver key glinted in Castiel's hand. "He must have slipped it in my pocket when he hugged me." He sighed. "He thought of everything."

"Almost everything," Sam murmured, mostly to himself. He popped the trunk of the Impala and hauled out his bag and two sleeping bags. His chest tightened a bit as he called, "What should we do with Gabriel's things?" After all, Gabriel was nowhere near the same size as any of them. He was far too small.

Dean looked to Castiel. Gabriel had been _his_ brother, after all.

"Bring them," Castiel said quietly, trudging up the path to the front door.

As he unlocked the house, Dean came around to help Sam with the rest of the gear in the back. "You okay?" he asked softly, slinging a bag over his shoulder.

"No," Sam said simply. No, he was decidedly not okay. But if one good thing had come of this, he knew, with no degree of uncertainty, that he would never agree to join Lucifer now. He followed Castiel into the house, where the youngest Milligan was flipping switches to determine that there was no power to the house yet except to the refrigerator.

"I'm going to start up the generator," he said to Sam as he passed him, heading back outside.

Sam set the bags and sleeping bags down in the hall and looked around as best he could. It didn't necessarily look like they were going to need the sleeping bags, but it didn't hurt to have them, just in case.

Dean dropped two more bags next to him. "Dark in here, huh?" he asked, for lack of anything better to say.

"Yeah." Sam bit his lip and tried not to heave a sigh. In fact, he tried not to do anything but breathe. Even thinking would inevitably lead him back to Gabriel, and it was too much. He just wanted to sleep. He wasn't hungry at all even though it had been nearly ten hours since he'd eaten last. All he wanted was to go to sleep and wake up to discover the whole thing had been a bad dream.

A moment later, a faint whirring filled the house and then the lights flickered on. There was a faint slam as Castiel closed the door to the shed, and then he appeared in the doorway. "I'm going to take a shower," he said, picking up his bag and disappearing down the hall. Dean looked like he wanted to call after him, but he decided against it at the last minute. Instead, he sighed and closed the front door behind him.

"Alright, I'm gonna claim a room and make dinner. You hungry?"

Sam shook his head.

"Okay." Dean hoisted his bag back onto his shoulder. "I'm really sorry, Sammy," he said after a moment, putting his hand on his brother's shoulder.

"He was probably an ass anyway."

Dean dropped his hand. "A little bit. But he was a good guy." With one last look back at Sam, he went down the hallway began hunting for the bedrooms.

Sam toed the sleeping bags out of the way and reached for his duffel bag. He didn't know what to do with the black one with a big gold _G_ scrawled on it in Sharpie, so he left it where it was. With a final sigh, Sam followed Dean to claim a room.

* * *

Dean had to admit that he was actually impressed with the size of the house, and the amenities. He'd poked through every room he could find and every bedroom seemed huge. The one that Castiel had claimed, having tossed his duffle bag in the middle of the bed and gone to the attached bathroom, seemed to be the master, but even the other two bedrooms were fairly sizeable. He picked one and started unpacking the five changes of clothes he'd been able to fit in his bag. They barely filled one drawer of the huge bureau against the far wall, and he sat down on the edge of the bed, wondering how long they'd have to stay here. And then he started wondering how much different the mood would be if Gabriel was with them.

It would be a lot more relaxed, that was for sure. It certainly wouldn't feel like such a hollow victory. Even if Dean had to watch him flirting with Sam, it would be okay because he'd be flirting with Gabriel's brother. It was so strange how, with one person's absence, a house could suddenly feel so empty.

He wondered if what they'd gained was worth what they'd lost.

He realized he was rocking back and forth, his head in his hands. No matter how much he tried to convince himself that he had no reason to start crying, he felt tears begin to sting the backs of his eyes. He drew in a deep breath to calm himself and stood up. _I'm not gonna do it. I'm not gonna cry._ No, he was hungry. He'd make some dinner instead, he decided, and he left his bedroom and set his gun down on the coffee table in the living room.

He made a box of macaroni and cheese, making sure to leave enough in the pan in case Sam or Castiel decided they wanted some later. He took his bowl and fork into the living room and turned on the TV, allowing himself to space out while he ate. He didn't even know what he was watching—some stupid show about this group of kids who called themselves "Ghostfacers" or something—but it was mind-numbing, and that was all he cared about. Sam, for his part, had claimed the last bedroom and had holed himself up in there. Dean didn't know what to do about him, but he obviously needed to be alone for awhile.

The credits rolled and Dean's fork hit the bottom of his bowl. It had been nearly an hour since he'd sat down, and he hadn't heard a peep from neither Sam nor Castiel. He got up and let his bowl soak in the sink before heading to the last bedroom and knocking on the door gently. When he didn't get an answer, he just opened the door and stuck his head in.

Sam was sprawled out face down in the middle of the bed, snoring softly. He apparently hadn't even bothered to unpack—he'd just dropped his bag and collapsed. His shoes were still on and his long hair was falling in his face, but he was definitely breathing. Dean sighed and sat down on the edge of his bed, rubbing his brother's back.

"I'm so sorry, Sammy," he murmured, even though he knew Sam couldn't hear him. "You don't deserve this. Cas doesn't deserve this. Gabriel didn't deserve this. When all this is over, we're getting out of here, and we're never looking back. We can forget all about…" His voice trailed off. Even as he was saying it, he knew it would be impossible. Neither of them would be able to forget this.

Dean sighed. "We can start over and maybe we can try to have a normal life. But I'm tired, Sammy. I'm tired of being a killer. I'm tired of people dying around me. I just don't want to lose you, too." He sat there for a few more minutes, silently rubbing Sam's back before slipping back out of his room and closing the door as quietly as he could.

Back in the hallway, he hovered with indecision as he stared at Castiel's closed door. He was particularly worried about the youngest Milligan—after all, losing the only brother who was willing to help you would be enough to drive anyone a little bit crazy, especially when it was another brother who'd killed him. He couldn't even imagine how he'd feel if Sam died, but the idea of it being caused by another family member? It was staggering. That kind of betrayal probably hurt worse than anything Castiel had ever known.

Preparing himself to make a hasty getaway if he needed to, he opened Castiel's door. The shower was still running, so he went into the room to the bathroom door and knocked, hoping it was loud enough for Castiel to hear.

"Yes?" he heard the younger man call hoarsely.

Well, he was alive. That was a good thing. "Are you okay in there? You're not trying to drown yourself, are you?" he joked, then immediately regretted. "I'm sorry, that was—"

"No, Dean."

Dean blinked at the door, as though he could see through it. "No, what? No, you're not okay, or no, you're not trying to drown yourself?"

"I'm not trying to drown myself."

"Okay, good. Look, I don't know if you're hungry or anything, but—"

"I'm not."

"Right. Okay. Um, I'll go, then."

"Wait."

He hadn't even taken a step away from the door. "Wait, what?"

"You don't have to leave if you don't want to."

"Oh." Dean scratched his head. "Then do you mind if I come in? I don't really want to keep yelling through the door."

"You can come in."

As he got hit with a wave of steam, he wondered how awkward he should have felt about barging in on a near-stranger's shower; he didn't actually feel all that awkward at all. Even seeing Castiel's clothing strewn on the floor didn't faze him as much as it should have. Dean nudged Castiel's jeans out of the way and settled himself on the floor against the wall of the tub, which was built right into the floor with a sliding frosted-glass door. "What are you doing in there, anyway?" he asked after a moment, as if he had any right to know.

"Avoiding."

Dean's chest constricted briefly. "I'm really sorry about Gabriel, Cas."

He was silent for a few moments. "Thank you." There was another silence that stretched until it snapped. "It hasn't quite sunk in yet. But at the same time, it has. Is that odd?"

"A little," Dean admitted, "but I think I know what you mean." He cleared his throat. "Like you can feel that he should be here, but it's obvious he's not."

"Yes. Exactly."

Dean sighed to himself. "I know that there's nothing I can do or say to change what happened, but if you need me for anything, you can ask, okay?"

Castiel didn't answer him right away. Dean had looked up to see the outline of the younger man freeze. And then, almost too softly to hear, Dean heard him ask, "Will you come in here?"

"Into the shower?" He wasn't sure he'd heard him correctly.

"Yes, Dean."

"A-are you sure?"

"Yes, Dean."

He rolled it around in his head for a minute. Castiel _had_ asked, and it didn't necessarily mean sex. It was obvious he needed someone to be close to right now. In all honesty, the fact that he was even asking for anything at all was a good sign. "Yeah, okay," he said finally as he stood up. He quickly stripped off his clothes and stepped into the shower behind Castiel.

The youngest Milligan turned to face him, but his gaze didn't rake over his body. He simply locked eyes with Dean.

"You've been in here for an hour now," Dean said softly. "I wasn't sure you were okay."

"Only an hour?" There was devastation in his eyes. "It felt like longer."

"I'm sorry." Dean was saying those useless words that would somehow never be enough, and a moment later, Castiel collapsed into his arms.

Dean held him tightly as Castiel pressed his face to his shoulder and started crying. He didn't have anything he could say to make Castiel feel better, but he rubbed his back and whispered, "It's okay, it's okay" in his ear over and over as the water from the showerhead soaked him. For several long minutes, he rocked him from side to side as Castiel sobbed, clinging to him. Dean had never felt so helpless before in his life.

A small amount of anger welled up inside him. If Gabriel had known he was going to die, why didn't he tell any of them? Why didn't he _warn_ them? Didn't he have any idea how easily Castiel and even Sam would fall apart? They were both breaking, and Dean wasn't sure he had the strength to put _one_ of them back together, let alone both.

He pushed the anger down, though. He couldn't get angry at a dead man for long. He couldn't change what had happened, but he'd do his best to help Castiel and Sam, even if it meant breaking himself in the process. They were both good and innocent and he'd meant what he said to Sam earlier: neither of them deserved to be put through something like this. Dean kissed the side of Castiel's head and murmured, "I'm so sorry."

Castiel looked up at him again, and Dean couldn't read the expression behind his eyes, but then Castiel pressed his lips to Dean's. "Will you make love to me?"

Dean was nearly afraid to believe what he just heard. "Are you sure that's what you want?"

Castiel nodded solemnly. "Yes, Dean."

It was almost too easy to say yes to him. "Just tell me when you want me to stop," he said, and though Castiel nodded, it was clear he wouldn't take him up on it. He let out little breathless gasps as Dean touched him, and Dean got the sense from Castiel's reactions that it had been a long time since anyone had touched him. With the hot water pouring down their backs, Castiel welcomed him, his head tipping back with the first assault. " _Oh, Dean!_ " he moaned while he buried his nails into Dean's shoulders.

Dean sank into him and he was gone, more helpless than ever before and utterly incapable of doing anything but what Castiel asked of him. This was what he had been made for: comforting Castiel, catching him when he fell, holding onto him, picking up the pieces of him. And Castiel was so beautiful, so angelic with that light flush across his cheeks as he wrapped himself around Dean, clinging to him like a buoy in a sea of madness.

They fell apart at the same time, and for a few minutes longer, they stayed under the jet of water, just holding onto each other. Finally, Castiel said, "I suppose we should get out."

Dean couldn't help but chuckle a little at that. "Maybe. I know you said you weren't hungry before, but…"

"I think I could eat now." Castiel turned off the water and slid open the shower door. He offered Dean a small smile and a towel. "Thank you, Dean."

"Don't mention it," Dean half-joked. He gave Castiel a light kiss. "I'm gonna be right here if you need me."

* * *

After they'd gotten dressed, they went into the kitchen to discover that Sam had woken up and found his way to the macaroni. He was sitting on the sofa in the living room, staring numbly at the wall as he ate.

"Sam, you with us?" Dean asked, ducking into his brother's line of sight.

Sam seemed to focus on him and he nodded. "I just…" He shrugged. "I don't wanna talk."

Castiel came into the living room with a bowl of noodles in his hand. He sat down cross-legged on the floor and began to pick at his food before he said, "I believe that we shouldn't wait for my father to come back to leave here. No matter what Gabriel said—" he paused almost imperceptibly before he could bring himself to say his brother's name "—I remain unsure that my father will return right away."

"You think that, when he hears one of his kids died, he'd gonna wait to come back?" Dean asked incredulously as he sat down next to Sam. That didn't sound like the Chuck Milligan he knew. Admittedly, he didn't know Chuck all that well, but what he _did_ know of him told him that Chuck would come running the moment he caught word of Gabriel's death.

"Not for very long. But even after he does return…" Castiel looked up at him. "How am I meant to look at Lucifer the same way after what he did? How are _any_ of us meant to look at him? Michael will never forgive him, and I…" He looked back down. "I want to go to Europe. I want to get out of here. The farther, the better. I just—"

There was a sharp knock on the door and everyone froze. There was another knock, and Dean pressed a finger to his lips, rising silently off the sofa and taking his gun off the coffee table. He flicked the safety off and crept to the door. A third knock now, louder and more insistent, rang out. Dean grabbed a hold of the doorknob and pointed his gun at approximately where he thought the person's eye level would be. Then he twisted the knob and cracked the door just wide enough to see who it was.

From the living room, Castiel and Sam heard Dean clearly say, "Son of a bitch."


	17. Chapter 17

_Celestial City, four hours ago._

"Don't make me do this, brother," Lucifer said, almost too softly to hear.

"No one makes us do anything."

"I know you think you're doing the right thing, but I know where your heart truly lies." In one smooth motion, Lucifer lowered his aim and shot Gabriel in the heart.

The impact jerked Gabriel half-around and he fell back onto the grass. He could have sworn he heard Sam yelling as Dean slammed on the gas pedal, tearing away from the scene, but he couldn't be sure.

Lucifer approached his fallen brother, flicking the safety of his gun back on and holstering it. There was blood flowing easily from the entry wound and he tried to tell himself he'd done the right thing. Gabriel had been trying to ruin everything for him. But he couldn't quite ignore the guilt that had started to buzz at the back of his head.

He reached down and tugged at the collar of Gabriel's shirt. Confused, he realized that Gabriel wasn't wearing the chain with their mother's wedding ring on it. He sighed, straightening up, and part of him wished he could look into his brother's golden eyes one last time. But it was useless. There wouldn't be any light in them. He was gone. Gabriel was dead now.

He looked back at the small group that was still waiting by the cars, his eyes honing right in on Balthazar Roché. Was Gabriel right? Did he destroy everyone and everything he loved? Was he destroying Balthazar? His jaw clenched. He wanted to believe that Gabriel was wrong. He pretended that he didn't see the look that sometimes crossed Balthazar's face, but he did. No, Gabriel was right. He was a destroyer.

But he couldn't think about that now. He couldn't change anything that had happened. And as he went back to his group, he realized that the best thing he could do for Balthazar was let him go. He clearly wasn't happy with him—there was no point in breaking someone else. "Roché, Singer," he said. He barely recognized his voice. He could barely believe what he was about to say. "Take him out to the woods."

If anyone was shocked with this turn of events, they didn't say anything. Singer pulled his car up next to where Gabriel's body lay as Balthazar slowly walked toward his former boss. Lucifer wondered what he was thinking, but then reminded himself he was letting Balthazar go.

Singer popped the trunk of his car and he grabbed Gabriel around the chest while Balthazar carried him by the legs. As they slammed the trunk closed, Lucifer climbed into his car with Samadhi behind the wheel and Roman in the passenger's seat. He watched the scene disappear as they headed back to Perdition.

* * *

Bobby started up his car. He and Balthazar didn't exchange a word as they got onto the street and made for the highway. In fact, it wasn't until they'd left the city that Balthazar glanced at Bobby and said, "That's far enough, don't you think?"

"Yeah. Lemme just get off the main drag here." He took the next exit and buzzed through a small town before finally pulling over and stopping on a small road that didn't look like it saw a lot of traffic. He and Balthazar got out of the car and headed to the trunk.

As soon as the trunk was open, Gabriel flipped them off. "Jesus, took you guys long enough."

"You wanna tell me how we'd explain something like this on the side of the freakin' highway?" Bobby asked with a trace of irritation in his voice but a smile on his face.

Gabriel carefully hoisted himself out of the trunk. "I'd just tell them I'm fine and not in any real danger." He spat out something red and slick on the side of the road, pulling a face. "You bring a toothbrush like I asked?"

"You don't _look_ fine," Balthazar pointed out as he went to the backseat for a bag. He pulled out a travel toothbrush, a small tube of toothpaste, and a bottle of water.

Gabriel looked down and sighed. "Well, I'm not surprised Lucifer seemed convinced. It actually worked out better than I thought." He unwrapped the toothbrush, swirled it in the bottle of water, and squeezed a blob of toothpaste onto it. He brushed his teeth quickly, anxious to get the taste of blood caps out of his mouth. They'd added a nice touch, he thought, but they didn't taste lovely.

"It really looked like he was gonna shoot ya in the head, boy," Bobby said quietly.

Gabriel chuckled nervously, swirling a sip of water around in his mouth. He spat that out, too, before swallowing his next mouthful. "Well, if he did, we wouldn't be having this conversation." He tried to look lighthearted but failed. "I knew it was a risk," he said seriously, "but I had to take that chance. Didn't I tell you? He was so shaken afterward that he didn't bother sending you guys after them." That was probably why Lucifer hadn't stuck around for long after it happened. Gabriel's biggest concern had been whether or not he could feign death for long enough to fool Lucifer. He'd started to panic when Lucifer tugged at his shirt until it became clear he was just looking for his necklace. Gabriel became immediately grateful he'd given it to Sam. "Cas got away with the Winchesters. Michael and Lucifer are never gonna find them, and Dad's probably gonna come back when he hears I'm dead." He finished off his water bottle and hopped off the back bumper. "You got my clothes in there? I look like a hot mess."

"Yeah." Balthazar tossed a clean T-shirt, another jacket, and a fresh pair of jeans at him.

Gabriel set them in the trunk and peeled off his jacket, making another face. "Shoulda worn a different coat. Bastard put a bullet hole right through my favorite one."

"It has character now," Bobby joked.

"At least he's a good shot," Balthazar murmured.

Gabriel nodded in concession. He suspected his brother was a pretty decent marksman, but that wasn't confirmed until just now. "Hope that washes out," he grumbled, noting the stains around the new hole in his jacket. He set it in the trunk, too, and stripped off his white T-shirt, exposing a thin but durable bulletproof vest with Lucifer's slug dug in about two inches from his heart. There was still a bit of fake blood oozing from the entry site, but for the most part, the blood had already flowed out.

Like his jacket, his shirt was fairly well soaked with the fake blood, but unlike his jacket, it was a lost cause. At least he wasn't quite as devastated by the loss as he was about his coat. He balled up the shirt and tossed it into the trees before gingerly unstrapping the Velcro holding the vest to his frame. He lifted the vest over his head and dropped it to the ground, wincing. "Fuck, that hurt, though," he muttered, rubbing his chest, oblivious to the cold. There was a sick bruise over his heart—the bullet hadn't penetrated the vest, but he'd still definitely felt the impact.

"You better get dressed, or a little bruise will be the least of your worries," Balthazar chided gently.

Gabriel stuck out his tongue at the other blonde and childishly pulled his clean shirt, forest-green this time, over his head. He pulled on the jacket, too, before kicking off his shoes and wriggling out of his jeans. He'd long ago abandoned any trace of modesty he'd had and now was perfectly comfortable sitting half-naked against the bumper of Bobby's car, but he hurried to put the other pair of jeans on. He was starting to feel the cold. Even Bobby and Balthazar had begun to shiver slightly.

He shoved his feet back into his shoes and hopped off the bumper. "Alright, what time is it?"

"Six-thirty," Bobby answered, checking his watch.

"Cool." Gabriel tossed his original pair of jeans in the trunk and slammed it closed. "Now let's get back to the highway. Where the Hell are we, anyway?"

"Bumfuck, Nowhere," Balthazar said sarcastically, going to the backseat and climbing in.

"Somewhere off Highway 9," Bobby said. He and Gabriel went to the front, Gabriel getting in shotgun as Bobby took his place behind the wheel.

"Fuck," Gabriel muttered. "Went in the wrong freaking direction."

"Can you still find your way there, or do we need to go back to Celestial?"

Gabriel nearly shuddered at the thought. "No, I know how to get there, but go _around_ the damn city. Lucifer's probably gonna expect to see you guys soon anyway, right?"

Bobby shrugged. "Honestly, if we show up late, he probably won't even notice. It'll be interesting to see just how much fun he actually is tonight."

"Hmm." Gabriel crossed his arms over his chest. "Alright. Well, let's go. Get back onto 9 but in the other direction. I can guide you from there."

* * *

Three hours later, they pulled up in front of the safehouse and Gabriel climbed out.

"You need anything else from us?" Bobby asked as Balthazar got out of the car as well.

"Nah, I should be fine." He gave Balthazar a hug and went around to Bobby's side. "Thanks, guys. You saved my life."

"I believe _that_ was the Kevlar," Balthazar quipped, smirking slightly. He tossed Gabriel's bag at him and ducked into the front seat.

"See you guys later. I'll probably be calling tomorrow or Monday. Let me know if shit goes south, okay?"

Bobby gave him a thumbs-up, got back into the car, and pulled away as Gabriel turned. He slung the bag over his shoulder and went to the front door. He couldn't help smirking slightly as he knocked.

There was no answer, so he knocked again. He knew they were in there—the Impala was parked in the front and the lights were on. They were definitely there. Slightly more irritated, he knocked harder.

The door cracked open and there was suddenly _another_ gun in his face.

"Son of a bitch," Dean Winchester said.

"You mind putting that thing away? I've had enough of those going off around me tonight, Winchester," Gabriel said glibly, pushing the door the rest of the way open and sauntering in. Dean was too stunned to put up a fight and silently lowered his gun.

Castiel and Sam were in the living room, but they were both staring at him in shock.

"What?" Gabriel asked with a smirk. "You act like a dead guy just walked in."

Castiel slowly got to his feet and approached his brother, looking like he couldn't quite believe his eyes. "Gabriel?" he asked softly, staring.

Gabriel's smile became genuine. "It's me, little bro."

Castiel was almost nose-to-nose with Gabriel. His eyes took in every inch of his face. "I can't believe it," he murmured, as if in awe.

And then, taking everyone by surprise, he punched Gabriel square in the jaw, sending him reeling backward.

"Ow, fuck!" Gabriel rubbed his jaw for a moment before grinning again. "Okay, I deserved that. I admit it. Anyone else want to take a swing? Sam? Winchester? This is the only chance you'll have to get away with it," he added. Neither of the Winchesters made a move. "Alright, then." He looked at Castiel, still grinning. "That's a mean right hook you got there. How'd you learn to hit like that?"

"Lucifer."

"Ah."

Then Castiel grabbed Gabriel by the jacket and hugged him tightly.

"I'm sorry, Cas," Gabriel said softly, returning his brother's embrace. "I really am."

"We thought you were dead."

"I know. But I always have a backup plan, remember? Another one of Lucifer's little lessons. You thinking I was dead was the point. You had to think that."

" _Why_?" Castiel demanded, pulling back to stare at Gabriel.

He looked from his brother to Dean to Sam and sighed. "Alright, let me sit down, okay? Believe it or not, being dead is hard work," he half-joked.

As soon as he sat down on the couch, three pairs of highly inquisitive eyes turned on him. "Alright, I'm sorry I couldn't tell you guys what was going on, but your reactions were important. You couldn't know what I was planning because I don't know how great you guys are at acting horrified or something. You reacted perfectly, by the way, but if Lucifer had even the tiniest notion that I'd orchestrated the whole thing, it probably wouldn't have ended well for me. As in 'bullet-through-the-head' not well. But, as I suspected he would be, after he actually shot me, he was too rattled to hang around for too long."

"What was the point?" Sam asked quietly, leaning up against the wall.

"A distraction. You guys got away without Lucifer's people chasing after you. _That_ was the point. He doesn't know about this place, and he never will."

"How did you…?" Castiel started, but his voice trailed off.

"What, pull it off? It wasn't that hard. I figured he was going to be armed, so a bulletproof vest worked out nicely."

"But you were bleeding."

"Fake blood caps. Popped 'em in my mouth before we even left the house, and there were fake blood packs sewn into the lining of the vest. Once the bullet hit the Kevlar, the packs ruptured. Instant bleeding wound."

"And you just played dead?" Dean asked. "I saw him walking up to you."

"He was so shaken that he didn't really notice I was still breathing. You try shooting your own brother and tell me if you're in your right mind immediately afterward."

"How did you even get out of there?" Castiel asked.

"Bobby Singer and Balthazar Roché. They work for me, although Lu doesn't know that. So when Bobby called me this morning and told me Lucifer was planning on dropping by, I knew I had to get something set up. This whole thing was thrown together really quickly, so I'm just grateful it ended up working out."

"He had a gun pointed to your head," Sam pointed out.

"Yeah," Gabriel said after a moment. "That was a risk. He ended up shooting me in the chest, which is what I expected he would do—I'm his brother, not some random thug, and he's not Michael—but I knew that it was a possibility, him shooting me in the head." He shrugged. "I tried not to think about that." He sat back on the couch and sighed. "Did you guys bring my bag in or did you leave it in the car like a bunch of muttonheads?"

"We brought it in," Sam said quietly. He'd been careful to keep Dean and Castiel between him and Gabriel, and he went into the hallway to grab the duffle bag with the golden _G_ on it. He tossed it at Gabriel who caught it easily and with a grin, although he noticed that Sam obviously wanted to keep as much distance between them as possible. He tried not to feel hurt by that.

"Right, well. I'm going to take a shower. I hope you guys saved some food for me," he joked, and this time Dean and Castiel cracked a smile. Sam didn't.

* * *

Sam couldn't sleep. He supposed this was the result of the hour-and-a-half-long nap he'd taken, but at the time, it had seemed like the right thing to do. He'd just wanted to block out Gabriel's death.

And then, when he woke up, it was to discover that Gabriel was indeed still alive. He was almost afraid to believe it, afraid to get too close, as if even hugging him would break the spell. He wasn't convinced that he wasn't still dreaming. It was too good to be true. How could he really be back?

Castiel had hugged him—Hell, Castiel had _punched_ him—and he was still there. But it would be different if he tried to touch him. Gabriel would dissolve or he would wake up or something, and Gabriel would still be gone. He seemed real enough, but…

Sam ran his fingers through his hair and turned to stare at the wall separating his bedroom from Gabriel's. It had been Dean's room a few hours ago, but he'd sheepishly moved his things into Castiel's room, pointedly ignoring the way Gabriel had snickered into his jacket. It certainly seemed like Gabriel, and Dean and even Castiel had accepted it almost immediately.

He pulled Gabriel's necklace out and stared at the ring. He was back. There was no need for him to keep it. Abruptly, he stood up, deciding he could at least return it to its rightful owner. After all, the man had had it for nearly seventeen years. He'd want it back.

He knocked softly on Gabriel's door. Sam wasn't sure if he was still awake and figured there was no point in waking him up if he was asleep. But he heard Gabriel say, "Yeah?"

Sam swallowed and pushed open the door.

It still looked like Gabriel. He hadn't even taken off his jacket. He was just sitting on the edge of his bed with a strange look on his face. The glow of the bedside lamp made his golden eyes look even brighter. "H-hey, Gabe," Sam said uneasily. "Um…" He quickly took the necklace off and held it out to him. "I figured you'd want this back."

Gabriel looked up at him. "Thanks, Sam," he said. He took it and slid it over his head, tucking the ring back under his shirt.

"Just… I can't figure out why you gave it to me to hold onto, not Cas."

"Three reasons. If my plan worked like it was supposed to, Lucifer was going to take it. He knows its significance to me and he would have kept it. But I gave it to you because you didn't know the importance, whereas Cas did, and…" He shrugged. "I wanted you to wear it. I don't know, Sam. It's not that complicated. I like you—so sue me."

"You like me?" He didn't quite know what to make of that.

Gabriel grinned. "Yeah, Sam, I do. I thought that was pretty obvious."

Sam felt a small smile tugging at his mouth in response. If he _was_ just dreaming this, it was a good dream and he didn't want to wake up. "Like, as in how? Like a brother, like a friend…?"

"Like a lot, muttonhead." He closed the distance between them and, standing on his tiptoes, kissed Sam.

Sam could feel his lips and the heat from his body. He slowly wrapped his arms around Gabriel, and the smaller man didn't disappear. He was still here. Sam could feel him. He could feel his heart beating. He was _alive_. Suddenly, he was pulling Gabriel closer, desperate to never let him go. He was crying, but he didn't care. Gabriel was back and that was all that mattered.

"Hey," Gabriel said gently, pulling back but not pulling free of Sam's arms. "What's wrong? You okay?" He swiped at Sam's cheeks with his thumbs.

"Y-you were dead. He killed you."

"He didn't kill me, Sammy. I'm right here. I'm alive." He offered Sam a reassuring smile. "I promise I'm okay."

Sam choked on a laugh, leaning his forehead against Gabriel's. "It's crazy, though. It doesn't seem real."

Gabriel's smile turned mischievous. "Believe me, Sammy. I'm _very_ real. Want me to prove it?"

Sam knew immediately what he was thinking. He only had to consider it for a moment before he grinned and nodded. "I could use a little more assurance."

Every passing minute made it clearer that Gabriel was really with him. There was no way his imagination could accurately create the feeling of their skin sliding together or the sheets beneath him. He couldn't possibly know before this how it felt to have Gabriel above him, pressing kisses to his neck, to his chest. Gabriel's tongue and teeth had him reacting far too strongly to be a hallucination. Gabriel's fingers felt better than any wet dream he'd ever had, and he had to bite down on his fist to avoid waking up Dean and Castiel.

And then, when Gabriel was finally buried deep inside him, it was delicious confirmation. This couldn't be a dream. He _had_ to be real. He wrapped his arms and legs around Gabriel's warm frame, moaning softly and thinking, _Thank God, thank God._

"Convinced?" Gabriel breathed into his ear afterward, nipping at his earlobe playfully.

Sam laughed breathlessly. "Yeah, I'm convinced." He pulled Gabriel close to him, letting his fingers trace the outline of the bruise on the chest. "Was that where…?"

"Yeah, that was from the bullet."

Sam looked up at him, seemingly glowing gold inside and out. "Thank you."

Gabriel smiled and kissed his temple. "I just did what I had to, Sammy."


	18. Chapter 18

_Celestial City, four hours ago._

Lucifer pasted on a smile just as Roman opened his door. Arriving at Perdition always made him feel like a bit of a rock star with everyone greeting him so excitedly, but this time, it was different. After all, this was the first time he'd rolled up after just shooting his younger brother. Though it was doubtful that anyone would be able to tell by looking at him, it was almost all he could think about.

Whatever part of his mind wasn't preoccupied with Gabriel's death kept replaying Gabriel's words in his head, though, and it was painfully obvious to anyone who looked at him for more than ten seconds that he did not want to be there right now. Most people didn't look at him that long, though.

He didn't try to find Meg immediately after arriving. In fact, for the most part, he hovered near the bar, which was providing a steady stream of alcohol to all present. He was dimly conscious that he was deviating unusually far from his normal behavior—"life of the party" was an understatement—but with four shots of whiskey in rapid-fire succession, he found he didn't give a fuck. So far, the night hadn't gone at all like he'd anticipated, and he wondered how much worse it would get.

He hadn't initially set out to kill Gabriel. Hell, it had been the farthest thing from his mind. But when he realized that Gabriel had been harboring the Winchesters, the red haze of rage took over. It subsided as he saw his brother hit the ground, and regret nearly choked him.

He took another shot of whiskey.

Gabriel was definitely right. He destroyed everything. Even if it wasn't his intention, even if it was the opposite of what he wanted, he ruined people. He had no idea what Meg saw in him anymore, was completely bewildered as to why she'd agreed to marry him, couldn't fathom why she stayed with him. And she didn't even know about Balthazar.

He _knew_ beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was breaking Balthazar. He pretended he didn't know what that expression meant, but he did. Maybe that was why none of his brothers would side with him—not even Castiel, who at least tolerated him sometimes, would admit he was right. Maybe they had a point.

"Hey, hon," said a sweet voice behind him. Meg had found him.

"Hey," he said, turning around and offering her a smile.

She smiled back and stood on her tiptoes to give him a kiss. "Happy birthday!"

"It's not quite my birthday yet," he said with a half-smile.

"That never stopped you before," she joked, giving his hand a quick squeeze. "Hey, you went to see Gabriel earlier, right? How'd that go?"

_Fuck._ He didn't even want to think about that right now. "It…" He sighed. "Not well."

"What happened?"

They could not possibly be having this conversation right now. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Did he not even talk to you, or—"

"I _said_ , I don't want to talk about it," he snapped.

She let go of his hand and backed up. "Wow, okay, asshole. I'll be back when you calm the fuck down."

As she left, he groaned softly. He was seldom, if ever, sharp with her, and he felt a little guilty about it already, but he _had_ said that he didn't want to discuss it. Apparently, tonight still had the potential to worsen.

He slunk away from the bar and managed to slip out of the ballroom without being noticed.

* * *

The Presidential Suite was, as usual, his for the night. Occasionally, it was reserved for someone else, but if Lucifer wanted it, it was his. It was outfitted primarily for his use, his music collection automatically synced between his apartment and the suite, and his movie catalogue on standby. Anyone else who stayed in the suite wouldn't be able to access either because they used a program that only responded to his voice. He took advantage of that small luxury the moment he closed the door behind him.

"Lilith, play music, random." He crossed the room to his own private bar—his preferred Scotch in stock and waiting for him—as a familiar song started: AC/DC's "Highway to Hell."

"Oh, you think you're clever, don't you?" he snapped. There was no point in being short with the system, but at least it didn't have feelings to hurt. "Next."

It was "(Don't Fear) the Reaper" by Blue Öyster Cult. He was pretty sure the program was fucking with him. "Next."

Lilith followed that with Social Distortion's "Angels' Wings." "Are you kidding me right now?" He was positive the program was picking up on his mood. "Next!"

Somehow, it deemed "Stairway to Heaven" to be a suitable follow-up. "Fuck you," Lucifer spat. He took a swig of his Scotch and said, "Play Metallica, 'Master of Puppets.'" _That_ , at least, didn't have any immediate correlation to his mood.

As the familiar song washed over him, he felt himself slowly start to slump. He'd made a huge mistake. He was used to acting rashly before, but this was expressly why he didn't kill people—often, one could still find a use for people who Michael might just kill. But Gabriel wasn't just some random person. He was his brother.

And now he was dead. Their father was sure to hear about it. Michael would completely lose his shit. Raphael would never see him again. Castiel… Hell, Castiel had _been_ there. There was no way he would ever be able to look any of his brothers, or his father, in the eyes again.

Lucifer found himself sliding to the floor. He was in a mess of his own design. There was no one to blame but himself. It was lonely here, which was something he hadn't felt in a very long time. He set his glass on the plush carpet next to him and realized just how drunk he was when he toed off his shoes and socks and drew his knees up to his chest. He was so lonely here. He wished Balthazar was with him. Then he choked on a laugh.

Balthazar had been in this suite with him more in five months than his actual wife had been in three years. Of course, she didn't spend much time at Perdition, so maybe it shouldn't have been a surprise. She'd done her own thing most of the time, but after Balthazar came to him after the great rift, he was almost always there. Waiting for him, it seemed. But Balthazar wasn't his.

He fisted his fingers in his hair and groaned. It hadn't mattered that Balthazar didn't really want him. He took him anyway, and no one ever said no to him. He could pretend that Balthazar could be his, mark him all he wanted, dream as he lay next to his wife, but it was useless.

It didn't stop him from wanting, but it made it clear that he had to let Balthazar go before he shattered completely.

He didn't know how long he stayed in that room but it must have been several hours of letting music he couldn't actually hear wash over him while he tried to drown out what he'd just done with Scotch. There was the trill of the sound system, indicating someone had just arrived downstairs, and when he finally stood up to check who it was, he saw it was _Roché, B_ and _Singer, R_. He bit his lip and reminded himself he was letting Balthazar go. But he couldn't. He needed someone who knew what just happened, someone who understood to at least pretend to be sympathetic, to not look at him like he was a monster. Right now, that someone was Balthazar.

He pulled out his phone and sent a text message to Balthazar. It was one letter, just _P_ , their code. He would know the meaning, but anyone else who may read the message later would have no idea what it meant. As soon as he sent it, he finished off his glass of Scotch and waited.

Two minutes later, there was a knock. He didn't even bother to verify who it was—he just opened the door and pulled Balthazar inside, easily shoving him against the wall and pressing his mouth to the blonde's.

"Sir," Balthazar started, but Lucifer cut him off.

"Don't call me that," he murmured against his lips.

Maybe it was something in Lucifer's tone that tipped him off, made him realize that this time would be different, but whatever it was, Balthazar closed his eyes and threw himself wholeheartedly into the kiss.

And it was definitely different this time. Lucifer was actually _gentle_ this time, running his hands and lips and tongue over Balthazar's skin as though it would be the last time they ever did this. He grabbed Balthazar's hand, intertwining their fingers as he dipped his head for another kiss. And even though Balthazar suspected he knew the cause—he could taste the Scotch on his tongue; he seemed to be trying to block out all memories of earlier that night—he still gave himself completely over to him. For whatever reason, Lucifer needed his comfort, and though he didn't deserve it—and Lucifer seemed to know he didn't deserve it—Balthazar offered it anyway.

He clung to Lucifer, letting go and panting his name, anything he could to let the younger man know, _I'm here and I'm yours_. He locked his mouth down on Lucifer's neck, but this time, he did nothing to discourage him. Lucifer moaned and started whispering things, a string of nonsense that Balthazar could barely follow— _Oh, God, yes, I'm so sorry, just like that, I shouldn't have, oh, Balthazar,_ yes _, feels so good, oh, my God_ —but it didn't matter. None of it mattered. It was pure and it was rough and it was deep and it was perfect.

And after it was over, with Lucifer spooned up behind him, it was Balthazar who broke the spell this time. "It's almost midnight."

"I don't care. I can't face them right now." Lucifer pressed a lazy kiss to the back of his neck.

Balthazar fell asleep shortly after that. When he awoke again, perhaps an hour later, he was alone. And that was the way it always ended with them. Balthazar was always left alone.

* * *

_Celestial City, two hours ago._

"Mr. Milligan, we received word from our agent in Lucifer's organization that your brother went to visit Gabriel this evening."

_This_ was an interesting bit of news. Michael looked up from his desk, curiosity piqued. "What happened?"

Hester didn't seem to know how to continue. After a moment, she said softly, "Gabriel is dead."

It didn't sink in right away. Those three words had literally never been uttered before. But when he finally fully realized what Hester had said, he discovered he wasn't breathing. "Oh," he whispered. "Is that why he wasn't answering…?"

Hester shook her head sadly. "No, sir. He died tonight. Lucifer shot him."

It felt like a punch to the stomach. He scrambled for something, anything to say, and came up with, "Does Raphael know?"

"He's being informed as we speak."

Michael let out a broken sigh, his face buried in his hands. He willed himself to stay together, although that was being increasingly more difficult with every passing second. "Anything else?"

"That's all we have so far."

"Alright." Michael stood up. "If anything else comes up, keep it until the morning. Dismissed."

Hester nodded in acknowledgement and made a smooth, albeit hasty, exit.

Michael turned and stared out into the darkness for a solid ten seconds. One of his brothers had killed tonight. One of his brothers had died tonight. His family was falling apart faster than he'd expected.

Suddenly, his office seemed stifling. He couldn't stay in here for another second. As quickly as he could, he strode to the door and left.

His house seemed empty. He knew it wasn't—there was always at least five other people besides him and Rachel walking around—but everything seemed cold and empty and lifeless. With a touch of desperation he'd never felt before, he practically dashed to his bedroom.

Rachel, mercifully, was still awake. She took one look at him and knew immediately that something was very wrong. "Michael, what is it?"

He looked at her for a second, the threatening tears not quite spilling over yet, and wordlessly climbed into bed next to her, still fully clothed down to his shoes. She moved closer to him and kissed his cheek. "Michael. Tell me what happened."

Suddenly, his tears couldn't be stopped. He wrapped his arms around her tightly and held her, his sobs rocking his body. It was a minute before he could speak, but he finally choked out, "Lucifer killed Gabriel." And then he was incapable of speech. He could only think that he could have stopped this, he could have gotten to Gabriel first, he could have done something, anything, to keep this from happening. He didn't doubt in the slightest that Lucifer had killed him in a fit of rage. Michael would have had more self-restraint than that; he never would have lost control. Their own brother was _dead_ because of his inaction, because of this huge mess they'd gotten themselves into. No wonder their father left—they were far more damaged than he thought.

And now they were destroying each other. This couldn't have been what their father wanted from them. This couldn't be the point. What would their father say when he found out? What would he do? Where _was_ he?

And what about Castiel? Did _he_ know? What had happened to his family? How could they tear each other apart like this? They used to be so close. No one could have ever imagined this, and now their family was broken. There was nothing left anymore. The last line had been crossed, and now…

This had never been part of their father's plan. It couldn't be. The day he left, he couldn't possibly have imagined it would be the last time he saw Gabriel. He wouldn't have left like that.

Lucifer had deviated from the plan. He'd rebelled, destroyed, taken what he wanted with no regard for the consequences. And now he'd killed Gabriel, and their family couldn't possibly be the same after this. They couldn't come back from something like this. It was too real, too permanent.

Michael sobbed into Rachel's hair, and she patiently let him, unsure of what to say but realizing words would be futile at this point. He just needed her there, and she was more than willing to oblige. She managed to half-embrace him and he seemed to sink into her. "What happened?" she finally asked softly.

"H-Hester said Lucifer shot him. He went to s-see Gabriel tonight and… I don't know, Rach. Gabriel can be irritating but I know Lucifer killed him for no reason. I mean, what reason could he _possibly_ have? What could forgive something like that? I just…" He choked on a sob. "I just don't understand. How could he do this? God, Rachel, this was never supposed to happen!" He had to pause as another round of sobs racked his frame, shaking them both. "What am I supposed to do? I'm so… so fucking lost right now. My whole family is falling apart and I tried to stop it but I couldn't and now I have no idea what my father would want from me."

"He'll probably be back the moment he hears about Gabriel," she murmured.

"I don't think so." He inhaled sharply, trying to stem the flow of his tears but failing. "I don't think he'll be able to look at us ever again. He'll blame all of us for Gabriel's death. I don't think he's ever coming back to us, Rachel. We're on our own now."

She turned in his arms to face him better. She gently pushed a few strands of hair behind his ear. "Michael. Mike. Your father will return. He couldn't possibly blame anyone but Lucifer for this. This isn't your fault. You have to believe that. You weren't the one who killed Gabriel. You didn't pull the trigger. You weren't even there. He couldn't blame you. And I know he'll be back. I can feel it." She tilted her head up and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

Michael knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Rachel would make a great mother. She was the sweetest woman he'd ever met. She had so much love for him, love he didn't deserve but was grateful for anyway. He kissed her forehead and felt himself regaining his composure as he held her.

But she was wrong. Chuck Milligan wouldn't come back. The Milligan boys were on their own now. It was time for them to take a stand. Castiel would choose a side now—his side. Lucifer had killed their brother. There was no way he could stay neutral now, not now that the last line had been crossed. Castiel would join him.

And Lucifer would pay dearly for the last insult to their family. But even with this comforting thought, it was still hours before he was finally able to fall asleep, and when he did manage to fall asleep, it was far from restful.


	19. Chapter 19

_Dubai, 11:00 AM local time._

Charlie had decided to leave early that morning, so Chuck had seen her off into a taxi. He was intensely grateful for her assistance in throwing his sons' dispatches off his trail. She had also apparently kept one of Castiel's agents, a twenty-two-year-old boy named Samandriel, from getting killed. He was sick and tired of bloodshed and it would be an exceptional waste for that young man. Chuck knew Samandriel was one of Castiel's friends, not just an agent.

He was just getting ready to go have a Sunday brunch at one of the cafés in the street—while simultaneously wishing he could be home for his son's birthday—when his private cell phone rang.

The only person who had this number was Joshua. The only time Joshua would call him unexpectedly was in case of an emergency. Chuck knew immediately that something very bad had happened. Mentally bracing himself, he answered the call.

"Yes, Joshua?"

"Sir, it's… I have some bad news."

Chuck flinched even though Joshua couldn't see him. "I figured that much. What is it?"

"I… I don't know how to say this. I mean, I can barely believe it myself, but I haven't heard anything to contradict—"

"Joshua," Chuck said sharply. "Please. Tell me what's happened."

"I'm sorry, sir. Gabriel is dead."

Somehow, the phone slipped from Chuck's fingers and clattered to the floor. _Oh._ It was… Chuck blinked numbly. It wasn't devastating. It was so far past devastating that there was no actual word for it. He couldn't even comprehend it.

"Sir? Sir, are you there?" Joshua's voice issued from the speaker, somehow cutting through the grief-stricken fog in Chuck's head. He dropped to the floor and picked up the phone.

"Yeah," he said softly. "I'm here." He swallowed and ran his fingers through his hair. His mind was racing and tripping over questions, but he couldn't think of one to ask for a moment. "Um… How did it happen?"

Joshua didn't answer right away. Chuck started to realize that _this_ may be worse news that Gabriel's actual death. He felt a sick sadness welling up inside him.

"Joshua. Please. Just tell me."

"Lucifer. Lucifer shot him."

Chuck let out a sound that was half-gasp, half-sob. "Oh, no," he whimpered. There was the worst kind of agony in his heart and all he could think was that all of this was his fault. His absence had caused this. If he'd been there, Lucifer wouldn't have even contemplated killing Gabriel.

"Where is he?" he asked softly.

"Who?"

"Gabriel. Where…" His throat constricted. "Where is Gabriel's body?" He never imagined when he left that he would end up talking about any of his children in the past tense. It didn't seem possible, but at the same time, it felt far too real.

Another bout of silence greeted him, and Chuck could clearly imagine Joshua hanging his head in distress. "I'm sorry, sir. We don't know. We're still searching."

"What do you mean, 'still searching'?" This couldn't be possible. Lucifer wouldn't have…

"It seems that he had two of his people hide Gabriel's body."

Chuck couldn't breathe. He let out a sound that was almost a squeak, but he couldn't inhale and he was getting dizzy from lack of oxygen. It seemed that at least one of his children had the ability to be a cold-blooded killer, and the thought made him sick to his stomach.

"Sir? Chuck? Are you still there?"

"Yes," he breathed, fighting the tears that had started to blind him. He had to try to keep his head, at least for another minute or two. "Um, I'm coming home. It wasn't supposed to happen like this, Joshua. No one was supposed to die. Not like this. And Lucifer…" A strangled sob tore itself from his throat as a tear slid down his cheek. And then the floodgates were open and he was fully crying. "How could he have done this? What happened to my children, Joshua? Have they all gone insane? Gabriel was supposed to hold them together, and this…" He let out a broken sob. "What about Michael? Raphael? Castiel? What about them? Where are they?"

"As far as I know, they're safe, sir. When will you be coming back?"

"As soon as possible. This… Joshua, this is chaos. I have to stop this. It wasn't… This wasn't supposed to happen."

"I know, sir," Joshua said softly. "You tried. You really did."

"Did I?" Chuck sighed. "Looking back, Joshua, I don't think I tried at all."

"The boys will be happy to hear you're coming back, though."

_But not Gabriel._ He would never see his golden son again. He tried not to think too hard about that, but it was impossible to forget. "I'll call them and let them know I'm returning as soon as I have a flight time."

"Do you want me to book the flight?"

Chuck shook his head again, though he knew Joshua couldn't see him. "No, I can do that."

"Alright, sir." Joshua's voice was leaden with sorrow. "I'll see you when you return."

Chuck hung up and buried his face in his hands. He wept for his son, for all of his sons, and for everything that had happened, everything he could have stopped. He wept for the little boys his children had been and the men they'd become. He wept for the damage he'd done to his own family, no matter how much he'd thought at the time that it was the right thing to do.

He remembered saying goodbye to each one of his sons. He remembered exactly how they'd all reacted to his sudden presence, how Gabriel and Castiel's reactions had been, first and foremost, joy. Michael and Lucifer and Raphael, they'd all been immediately suspicious, but while Gabriel and Castiel had been eventually concerned, their first instinct was one of welcome. If he had known it would be the last time he would ever see Gabriel alive, he would have… Well, he wouldn't have left. If he had known it would end like this, he would have changed his mind. He wouldn't have let something like this happen.

He finally picked himself up off the floor and went for the hotel phone on his desk. He had a flight to book.

* * *

_Outside Celestial City, 6:00 AM local time._

Gabriel yawned and stretched, tugging Sam's T-shirt over his frame as he came into the living room, where Castiel was anxiously tapping the coffee table with his fingertip. Castiel was already fully dressed in a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt, with a satellite phone cradled against his ear. "What's going on?" the elder Milligan asked sleepily. He wasn't used to being up quite this early, but remembering you were supposed to be dead didn't necessarily lend itself to restful sleep. Having Sam next to him had been nice, though. He was quite cuddly, for a moose.

"I'm trying to get in contact with Inias and Samandriel," Castiel murmured, hanging up and dialing another number.

"I thought you said you were going to give them a few more days before you decided." Gabriel yawned again and went into the kitchen to get some breakfast.

"I said that yesterday, _before_ you faked your own death," Castiel said in a way that could almost be described as snide. Gabriel didn't even know his younger brother had a "snide" setting. Then again, he hadn't expected Castiel to sock him in the jaw, either. It was starting to become a little more apparent that Castiel had a hidden side to him.

"Yeah, and?"

"And I've decided that I don't need to think about it. I'm bringing them home. After Dad finds out what happened to you—or what he _thinks_ happened to you, anyway—he'll come home, so there's no need to go sending them off to Egypt for a man who's about to return in the first place. So I'm bringing them home."

Gabriel nodded slowly, settling himself into a sitting position on the floor across from Castiel. He took a bite of his cereal before saying, "But they're not answering?"

"No, not yet. I don't understand—it's three in the afternoon over there right now. They should be—"

"Hello?" a breathless voice answered.

"Samandriel?"

"Castiel? We've been trying to contact you for hours! Where have you been?"

The younger man's voice sounded strained and Castiel felt panic drum up inside him. "Trying to stay away from Lucifer, for the most part. My phone is still at home, and I'm… not. Why? What's happened?"

"Charlie Bradbury lied to us. Your father isn't in Egypt. He's still here in Dubai."

Anything Castiel had been about to tell them immediately left his head. "You've seen him? You know for sure?"

"Yes. I saw him last night, talking to her. He is definitely still in Dubai.

"What happened with Lucifer? Why are you avoiding him?"

Castiel glanced at Gabriel, who was listening intently. Gabriel shook his head, the unspoken message clear: _Don't tell them about me._ "It's… it's a long story. Try to find my father. I'm not saying to try to convince him to come back. Just contact him. Um…" Castiel checked his watch. "I'll call you back in twelve hours. Don't bother calling my cell phone. It's probably dead by now anyway."

"Alright, Castiel. We'll find him."

"Thank you." Castiel hung up and tossed the phone on the table. "I'm assuming you heard that."

"Dad still being in Dubai, not in Egypt?" Gabriel nodded. "Yeah, I heard that. He's a tricky devil. Think he had Charlie lie for him?"

"It's possible. He doesn't make a habit of lying to us outright." Castiel sighed. "So somehow, she knew he was there, right? How?"

"She's smart, remember?" Gabriel absently gnawed on his spoon for a moment. "I don't know how she did it, but does it matter? Hell, maybe you should just send him an email and tell him you know where he is."

"Why? If he hasn't heard about your death by now, he will soon."

"So then why did you tell Inias and Samandriel to find him?"

"To escort him back if need be."

Gabriel groaned and set his bowl on the table so he could safely flop back onto the floor. "I'm so confused right now. You know Dad is in Dubai but is pretty much guaranteed to return soon. You were planning on bringing Inias and Samandriel home anyway but now that you know Dad is still in Dubai, you want them to find him. You want them to possibly escort him home—I'm assuming for moral support, but I don't know for sure—but you don't tell them that or why. What did I miss where all of this makes sense to you?"

"Because I don't know if Dad knows yet. If he knows, he'll tell Inias and Samandriel. If he doesn't know, I'll let Joshua tell him. I just can't tell them and have them find out that Dad doesn't know and they end up being the ones telling him, especially when he finds out it's not true. Also, I'm not a big fan of lying to them _or_ asking them how I know any of this in the first place since I'm not good at lying in the first place. Does any of _that_ make sense?"

Gabriel rubbed his forehead with a pained look on his face. "A little, I guess."

"Besides, I'm not even sure they'll find him before I call them next anyway. It's a hope, but…" His voice trailed off as Dean slunk into the room in sweatpants and a sky-blue T-shirt that looked a bit tight on him.

Gabriel noticed, took one look at Dean, and snorted. "Don't you think that shirt's a little small, Winchester?"

Dean spun around, already forming a witty retort in his head, but changed his mind when he saw Gabriel's shirt and that the dwarf was practically swimming in it. "Don't you think yours is a little big?"

Castiel hadn't paid any attention to what Gabriel was wearing, but he was fairly certain now that it was the same shirt that Sam had been wearing the night before. He had no idea where Dean had found his shirt, though—in fact, he couldn't even remember bringing it. And now that he was thinking about it, he hadn't been able to find that shirt in years. He'd actually given up on finding it by now. "Dean, where did you find that?"

Dean looked down at his shirt. "I brought it. Why?"

"You brought it?" Castiel sounded utterly bewildered. "Where did you get it?"

"It was…" Dean scrunched up his face, trying to remember. Wasn't it at that one store…? _Oh._ Now he remembered. "The, um… the first time I… the first time I killed someone, I came back to report it to Zachariah, and your dad came out and he said I needed a new shirt. So he came back with this. He said…" Comprehension dawned across his features. "He said it belonged to his son, but he didn't say which one. I'm guessing it was yours."

Castiel nodded slowly. "I forgot all about that. I believe I was more preoccupied with my homework than with what my father was saying to me. But I remember now."

Dean gave him an embarrassed sort of smile. "I guess you want it back then, huh?"

Castiel half-smiled and shook his head. "No, it's alright. You can keep it."

"Thanks." Dean looked back at Gabriel. "Now how did you get _my_ brother's shirt?"

Gabriel fixed Dean with a bored look. "How do you think, dumbass? It's certainly a more interesting story than how you got my brother's shirt, but it's also not something I feel like recounting right now."

Dean groaned and left the living room. If what Milligan was insinuating was accurate, he had no idea how he was supposed to feel. Certainly vaguely disturbed was a logical feeling, but he figured it was pretty obvious to Gabriel that he'd slept with _his_ younger brother, so he didn't really have room to be too upset. Still, it wasn't something he wanted to think about for an extended amount of time.

Castiel rolled his eyes at Gabriel and settled back onto the couch. "Well, since you're here, I might as well tell you now. I'm planning on moving to Europe when this is all over. You know, after Dad comes back."

Gabriel sat back up and stared at Castiel. "Europe? Where in Europe? England, France, Turkey?"

Castiel raised his eyebrow. "Most of Turkey is in Asia."

"That's not the point," Gabriel said, waving his arms as though he could cut through Castiel's misunderstanding. "Where?"

"I haven't quite decided. It won't happen right away, but probably within the next year. I'm thinking France, though. Maybe Germany. I…" Castiel sighed. "I know now that Lucifer didn't actually kill you, but knowing he tried, knowing that was his intent when he fired at you… It's going to be a long time before I can look him in the eye. He very nearly destroyed our family. I just want to be away from all of that for awhile. So after Dad comes back, I'm leaving."

"What about us?" Gabriel asked quietly.

"I'll only be a flight away, Gabe. But I'm looking forward to starting over somewhere new, somewhere people don't know 'Milligan' is supposed to be synonymous with power. All my life, I've had things just handed to me because of our family. I'm ready to earn something from my own merit for once. It'll be simple. I won't have to be so concerned with responsibilities I don't need anyway."

"What if this happens again?"

"Do you really think that, after all this, it'll ever get this bad again? No, I think after Dad comes back and you let everyone know you're still alive, it'll snap all of this into perspective. It won't happen again. Not when Michael and especially Lucifer realize what they could have lost."

Gabriel nodded slowly. "But who says I want to come back from the dead? What if I decide I want to leave, too? I mean, it's not every day I'll get to see my own funeral, and Bobby and Balthazar were ordered to just dump my body somewhere. Empty casket, empty grave, and I get to go on living my life out of their shadows."

"You'd really do that to Dad?" Castiel asked softly. "Let him think you were dead? Let Lucifer go to jail and possibly to his grave thinking he killed you?"

Gabriel thought that over for a moment. "I highly doubt anyone would testify against Lucifer. Certainly none of _his_ people would, and you and Dean and Sam all obviously know it's a lie. No witnesses who think they know what they saw could come forward. Lucifer's not going to jail for this, especially with no body." He sighed. "But I can see your point about Dad. Not having a body, not having that closure would probably devastate him." He ran his fingers through his hair. "Hell, maybe I'll tell him and just have him keep it to himself. You know Dad knows how to keep a secret. He came to see all of us right before he left and never said a damn thing about it."

Castiel half-smiled. "He seemed like he wanted to. I asked him what was going on and it looked like he wanted to tell me, but he changed his mind at the last second."

Gabriel nodded. "Yeah, same. But I guess he thought he was doing the right thing, you know?"

Castiel sighed. "You know, Michael and Raphael will probably never forgive Lucifer for 'killing' you," he added, putting the word _killing_ in air quotes. "You're going to let them hate him for no reason?"

The older Milligan made a face. "Damn it, Cas, you know how to lay on the guilt better than a Jewish mother."

Castiel tilted his head to the side. "We're not Jewish and we don't have a mother. How would you know that?"

He groaned and flopped back onto the floor. "Never mind, okay? I'll tell them. Just as soon as Dad comes back. But I'm leaving, too. You're right—this whole thing is bullshit. Dad can sort out this mess and we can take off."

His younger brother chuckled softly. "And the Winchesters can come if they want to. They seemed receptive to the idea of starting over as well. Sam can go back to school, and Dean can… he can find a job doing something different."

Gabriel nodded, tousling his golden hair against the carpet on the floor. Suddenly, he let out a snort of laughter. "Can you imagine us with regular jobs?"

Castiel laughed, too. "Me, yes. You, no."

"Good. Me, neither."


	20. Chapter 20

_Celestial City, 8:00 AM local time._

Michael left his house early that morning. The night before, the temperature had dropped to nearly freezing and it looked like it was going to start to snow either that day or the next. As a child, he'd loved the snow, and he'd loved Lucifer, so the first snowfall of the winter happening on his birthday seemed like a double blessing.

It was almost frightening how much could change in twenty years.

It didn't seem real, Gabriel's death. It hadn't quite sunk in yet. He didn't know if it was because there hadn't been a funeral yet or if it would really ever sink in. He certainly hadn't expected it, either. But there was no changing the fact that Gabriel really was dead.

Suddenly, the morning seemed colder. Michael pulled his coat tighter around himself until he got to his car and slid gracefully into the backseat.

His driver knew right where to take him, which was fortunate, because he hadn't said a word all morning and didn't feel like speaking now. Everything seemed stupid and small by comparison—even locating Dean Winchester didn't interest him anymore. What did it matter? There was no point to it.

He let out a sigh and closed his eyes. It wasn't yet common knowledge how far the Milligan family had fallen, but once people knew, it was bound to be trouble.

He barely noticed when the limousine pulled to a stop in front of Raphael's house, but his driver's knock on his window jarred him from his reverie. He exited as carefully as he entered and shivered in the not-yet winter chill.

Raphael wasn't necessarily expecting him, but Michael had dropped by unannounced several times since their father disappeared. Assuming he knew by now—which Hester said he did, and he had no cause to doubt her—Raphael would probably anticipate his arrival relatively soon. Michael let out a small sigh, his breath materializing like mist, before he pulled himself together and went to Raphael's door.

To his surprise, it was Raphael who answered. He looked exhausted, worse than Michael felt, and it was obvious that he'd spent a fair amount of time crying.

"You heard, then?" Michael asked.

Raphael nodded once. "I was wondering when you would get here."

"We need to talk about this," Michael said, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. He shrugged out of his coat and hung it on the staircase banister before following Raphael to his office. "Is Ruby around?"

Raphael dropped into his chair and buried his face in his hands, his elbows propped up on his desk. "No," he said finally as Michael took the seat across from him. "She has no idea what's happened yet. As far as I know, anyway." He dropped his hands. "She's at her parents' house right now. I don't know how to tell her, either."

Michael nodded slowly. "I… telling Rachel was difficult." He sighed. "Telling her how was worse."

Raphael raised his eyebrows. "Oh. In my surprise, I forgot to ask. What happened?"

The elder Milligan groaned and rubbed his eyes. "Damn," he murmured. "I was hoping you…" He let out another sigh, and then said louder, "But it doesn't matter. Lucifer shot him."

Raphael looked stunned. "You're joking," he said finally.

"I fail to see what could even remotely be considered humorous about such an appalling prospect," Michael said icily. "In fact, it's likely the most un-funny possibility I've ever considered."

His younger brother nodded. "I know. I agree completely. But… it just doesn't seem like the kind of thing he'd do, Michael. Just… shooting Gabriel? That's low, even by Lucifer's standards. Are you absolutely sure?"

"The only way I could be more sure is if I saw it myself. Honestly, I can't say I'm too surprised. I always suspected it would come to this."

"And by 'this,' you mean…?"

Michael fixed his brother with a stony stare. "What do you think I mean? Lucifer has already ripped apart this family. This cannot continue. I mean to end it."

Raphael looked at him with an expression that was decidedly apprehensive. "Just think before you go rushing to any permanent decisions. Have you spoken to Castiel yet?"

"No," Michael said quietly. "I haven't. I don't even know if he's aware of the situation yet. For all I know, he's sleeping off the aftereffects of what was no doubt a wildly hedonistic birthday party of Lucifer's. And that's the other thing—the fact that he could kill Gabriel and then turn right around and throw this party for himself."

"If Castiel was at the party, he probably isn't aware of the situation."

"Very true. Even if he wasn't there, he probably doesn't know. His network isn't as far-reaching as ours. In fact, I'd say it's far more likely that Dad already knows than Cas. And I don't think Dad knows yet—it's only been a few hours, and I find it hard to believe that he wouldn't call us, under the circumstances. Which leads me to my other theory." Michael sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "I believe that Dad won't be coming back."

"You're not serious. You think Dad is going to stay away after he hears about… about Gabriel?"

"Yes. I don't know why he'd return to a family so utterly beyond his recognition. His departure was a test, and one we've failed miserably. I don't think he would have any cause to return."

Raphael leaned back and the two of them regarded each other for a few moments. "I can't believe that. He wouldn't just… He wouldn't."

"He already has, though. It's obvious. Allowing Lucifer to get so out-of-hand that it would come to this… I don't see why he wouldn't already have returned if that was his intention."

"Because we could always come back from something like that," Raphael insisted. "Lucifer's insubordination could, eventually, be forgiven."

"But this can't. And Dad will blame me for not stopping it when there was a chance."

"You couldn't have known. None of us could have known. You can't blame yourself. Dad won't blame you, either."

"I blame me," Michael said quietly. "I should have known."

"No," Raphael said gently. "Don't you realize what you're saying? You can't just decide—"

"I haven't 'just decided' this. You have no idea how long I've thought about it. It's something I've had to consider for the last six months. I never did because I thought Lucifer would come around. I thought he would understand. I thought… I _hoped_ he would realize that he's still a part of this family and that it didn't have to be like this. But he's left me no other choice."

"Michael, let's just call Cas. He could have a new perspective on this. If you're saying what I think you're saying—"

"I am."

"Alright. Then it's not something you should decide like this. We need to call him."

"Go right ahead. I highly doubt anything baby brother has to say will change my mind, but sure, let's do that." Michael leaned back in his seat, a muscle in his jaw twitching. "But if he's anywhere near as pissed-off about this insult as I am, he'll understand what I'm saying."

Raphael gave him a reproachful look but put his phone on speaker before dialing Castiel's number.

It went straight to voicemail. _"Hello. This is Castiel. I'm unable to answer my phone. Please leave me a message and I will return your call promptly."_ Raphael hung up, looking pained. "So. Either he's so deep in mourning he turned off his phone, or…"

"Or he doesn't know," Michael finished. "And I'm going to go ahead and assume it's the latter, not the former."

"He's probably at home. We should check to make sure he's okay."

Although Michael suspected Raphael of trying to stall him, he had to admit it was a good suggestion. He was genuinely concerned about his youngest brother and hoped that, somehow, Lucifer hadn't already gotten to him.

But when they got to Castiel's house a half an hour later, no one answered. Not even after Michael practically broke down the door was there a sound from inside. Castiel wasn't a heavy sleeper and he was typically awake by quarter to nine in the morning—at least, he had been back before all this mess had creeped up on them.

"I don't like this," Raphael murmured.

Michael scoffed. "Fuck, like I _do_?"

"You don't think Lucifer had anything to do with this, do you?"

"I can't honestly say it would surprise me."

Raphael looked back toward the street. He looked anxious. "I suppose this is a stupid question, but what do you think?"

"We know that Lucifer killed Gabriel. As of right now, we don't know where Gabriel's body is, or where Castiel is. Dad's not coming back. This whole city is in turmoil. My mind is made up, Raphael. Lucifer needs to die."

"He's our brother," Raphael pleaded softly. "This can't be right."

"That fact didn't stop him from killing Gabriel. That can't go unpunished. Gabriel was supposed to be neutral. What's to stop him from killing Castiel? Or you or me?" Michael fixed his intense blue-eyed gaze on Raphael. "This is what's best for our family. To protect us and to stop this insanity, it has to be done. And I'm going to do it myself."

Raphael sighed sadly, a beaten and dejected look in his eyes. "I only wish there were another way."

"So do I. I never wanted it to end like this. But I guess… it's the way it has to be."

Raphael started back to the car. Maybe Michael was right. Lucifer had never been accepting of Michael's authority, and now he'd killed Gabriel.

He wondered about that now. What had really happened last night? Had Lucifer shot him through the head or through the heart? Was it one bullet or more? Had he been dead before he hit the ground or did he linger there, spending the last few seconds of his life reflecting on this last betrayal? Had he been afraid to die? Did Lucifer stay with him until the end or did he just leave? Raphael felt himself tearing up again and tried to push it back down.

Maybe this was always how it was supposed to end. He just wish they had a little bit longer.

* * *

The satellite phone rang on the living room table, and Gabriel groaned. "What the actual fuck is going on?" he asked, not really expecting anyone to be able to accurately answer. He reached up for the phone from where he was sprawled out on the floor—he had actually moved in the past five hours, but he happened to have moved back when Dean decided he wanted to watch a movie—and answered it, climbing to his feet.

"Keep watching," he said to the other three before leaving the living room and heading to his bedroom. "Who's this?"

"Mr. Milligan, it's Ash."

"Shit. How did you get this number?"

"You forget who pays your bills," Ash Payton half-joked.

"Ha-ha-ha. What's going on?"

"I figured you'd be interested in knowing that Michael's hate-on for Lucifer has reached dizzying new heights."

"What else is new?"

"Michael is actually planning to seriously fuck Lucifer's shit up. And by that, I mean he's going to kill him."

"He isn't going to kill Lucifer."

"Well, the inferno of righteous fury that is currently your big brother begs to differ. Apparently, he's already discussed this with Raphael and he somehow convinced Raph to go along with it. So if you plan on keeping your whole family breathing, you might want to warn him about the inevitable storm of shit that's about to head his way. Not that I blame Michael in the slightest because if I didn't know any better, I'd be plenty pissed-off, too, but I figure this is important to you."

Ash was probably the only person in Gabriel's organization that could get away with talking to him like that. He was a brilliant programmer and an electronics whiz in general, and though he had a tendency to use more sarcasm than strictly necessary, it was one of the qualities that had first endeared him to Gabriel. He appreciated that kind of humor in the people he employed. "Did he say when this metaphorical and literal ass-kicking may take place?"

"No, but it sounds like soon. I think within the next couple of days, while he thinks he can get the jump on Lucifer. Not that _that's_ likely, but, you know, a guy can dream."

"Yeah. Alright, I'll let my guys in Lucifer's camp know about this and have them warn him. Thanks for the heads-up."

"No problem. I'll call you if anything else pops up, 'kay?"

"Yeah, um, about that. Do me a favor and lose this number as soon as all this shit blows over. It's supposed to be a private line."

"Oh, shit, like that one in your office?" Ash's voice was bright with barely-contained laughter. "Damn. Okay, I'll have it taken out of the phone book."

Gabriel would have thrown the phone at Ash's head if he'd been present. As it was, he had to settle for hanging up with a grimace.

He really hadn't wanted to bother Singer or Roché today, but apparently it would have to be done. With a groan, he dialed Singer's cell phone number. For whatever reason, though, Bobby didn't answer. In this case, he decided that a breach of the chain of command was in order and he could go right to Roché. That was fine, though—he got the impression that Roché was closer to his brother anyway.

"Yeah?" Even through his thick British accent, Roché sounded exhausted.

"Oh, good. _One_ of you answered, at least. Great, okay. Listen, I just got a call from one of my people on Michael's side and it turns out that Michael's planning on executing Lucifer."

"When?" Roché suddenly sounded much more alert. This was promising.

"I don't know when. Soon. Like 'within-the-next-forty-eight-hours' soon. So, just… fuck, I don't know how you'd explain how you know, but try to warn him, okay? I mean, I'd do it myself, but I'm supposed to be dead, and I'd like for everyone to think I'm still dead for as long as possible." It was actually quite liberating. No one suspects a dead man. "As difficult as it may be to believe, I don't actually want the prick to die, okay? Do you think you can do that?"

"I can certainly try."

"Good. Great. Awesome. As soon as you can, let Singer know what's going on and make sure you explain to him that I tried to call him and couldn't get in touch. I'll check back in tomorrow. And please, for the love of fuck, don't call me on this number unless it's an emergency."

"For what it's worth, this is showing up as a restricted number."

"Fan-fucking-tastic," Gabriel muttered. "Alright, I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"Yeah. Good luck."

"Same."

As Balthazar hung up and stared at the bare wall across from him, he couldn't help but think he needed it. He didn't know how he was going to convince Lucifer to watch his back or if he would even listen to him anyway. He supposed a text message wouldn't be a bad way to start.

Figuring Lucifer was probably crashed out on his own bed at home and not expecting a reply for quite some time—if at all; he was notorious for not answering text messages—he sent the most succinct message he could come up with. _Rumor is, Michael means to kill you very soon. Be careful._ He tossed his phone on the bed next to him and curled up.

Gabriel had woken him from a light doze. After waking up at three in the morning to discover Lucifer had left the Presidential Suite, he'd hastily dressed and left Perdition before anyone else could see him. He didn't feel like rejoining the party or seeing Meg hanging all over Lucifer, and he was too drained to face anyone in the first place. So he'd just gone home, back to his lonely little apartment and his lonely little life, and tried to comprehend a universe where any of this made sense.

Such musings lent themselves to fitful sleep, waking him every hour or so as he heard phantom gunshots and had bizarre lucid dreams. He just wanted a nice, solid eight hours of sleep, but that would obviously elude him for quite some time.

His half-conscious musings were interrupted yet again, but this time by another phone call. This one was from a different Milligan, and he tried to tell himself his heart didn't race like a teenage girl's. "Sir?"

"I said, don't call me that," Lucifer growled, but there was no malice behind his words. "What has you so sure that Michael's gonna kill me?"

"I believe he heard about… about Gabriel," Balthazar said carefully. "And I've heard rumors that your brother is out for blood."

Lucifer was silent for a few moments, but background noise leaked through. It sounded like classic rock, and Balthazar wondered if Lucifer was alone or if Meg was around. And then he wondered if Meg even knew what had transpired the night before. "Well, that's it, then, isn't it?"

"Sorry?"

"Big brother's gonna kill me. Saint Michael, Daddy's little avenger, is going to swing his terrible sword of retribution as punishment for his little brother's wicked deeds."

"Are you drunk?" He didn't know what possessed him to ask, but Lucifer ignored the question anyway.

"But, Hell, I deserve it. Why the fuck not? So I killed my little brother…" His voice trailed off and it sounded like he choked on a sob. "And he was right. I fucking ruined everyone I ever cared about. I'm a destroyer. So let Michael come for me. I'll be waiting."

"Lucifer—" He'd never addressed him by name before last night, and in bed in the throes of passion hardly counted. It felt strange to do so, but it also seemed right.

"'m so sorry, Balthazar. I tried. I did. But Gabriel was right." Lucifer severed the connection, and when Balthazar tried calling back again, his phone went straight to voicemail.

He propped his elbows up on his knees and buried his face in his hands. He'd still try to save Lucifer. He knew he would fail, but he had to try anyway.


	21. Chapter 21

_Celestial City, 2:45 PM local time._

His head was killing him. He'd had awful hangovers before, but this one truly felt like the hangover from Hell. He groaned and curled up tighter to himself, trying not to feel the sheets shifting under him or the dull, light pressure against his hand.

_Huh?_ He warily opened one eye. He had his phone in his hand. He distinctly remembered putting his phone on the nightstand to charge, but apparently that hadn't worked because his phone was dead now. He groaned again and slowly shifted into a sitting position. He plugged his phone in and looked around.

He was still in the Presidential Suite, and still alone, if the one set of clothing—his white suit, to be precise—strewn across the floor was anything to go by. He tried not to reflect on the irony that he woke up alone more often than a married man should. He idly wondered where Meg was, if she'd gone home last night, tried to bring himself to care. But he couldn't.

He fell backwards onto the middle of the mattress, letting his legs dangle over the side. His bed at home wasn't quite as bit as this one and, hung over or not, he did enjoy letting his six-foot-one frame sprawl out across the sheets.

What had happened? He remembered getting out of the car and heading to the ballroom (he hadn't wanted to be there in the first place), drinking a lot of whiskey (how else could he block out the last few hours?), pissing off Meg for some reason (why did it matter?), coming up here and drinking some more Scotch (that had probably been a mistake), asking Balthazar to come up (they'd made love, hadn't they? And Balthazar marked him but he let it happen because he'd wanted it to happen for months now, and he couldn't even summon the self-preservation to hope Meg wouldn't see, which she surely would), falling into a light albeit drunken doze with the man in his arms (oh, Christ, that had been sweet, more than he deserved, but he took it anyway), waking up shortly before midnight (he just wanted to go back to sleep; it was so nice laying next to him), getting dressed (being as careful as possible to not wake up Balthazar because he looked so peaceful, far more relaxed than he ever did while awake), stumbling back downstairs to ring in his birthday (he must have been a hot mess because he remembered absolutely nothing about it, not that he wanted to), not getting back up to the suite until two-thirty in the morning (he must have been alone because the sheets definitely looked like they'd been fucked in and Meg probably would have flipped out, but then again, he'd started to think his affair was obvious despite how blissfully unaware she seemed to be), discovering that Balthazar had left (he tried to swallow the hurt that bubbled up inside him but he remembered that he'd just made him and Singer get rid of his brother's body earlier that night; he could barely stand to look at himself, so how the Hell could he expect Balthazar to wait for him?), passing back out (but he must have put on some music first, or why else would Blue Öyster Cult be playing over the speakers?), waking up to a text message (that must have been why his phone was in his hand. Who sent it? What did it say? He must have been wasted still), and then… nothing. This. Whatever "this" was.

His phone buzzed irritatingly on the nightstand as soon as it had a sufficient charge. He picked himself up off the bed and checked the screen.

_Oh._ The text had been from Balthazar. _Rumor is, Michael means to kill you very soon. Be careful._ It had arrived at 11:37 that morning, and apparently he'd called Balthazar a few minutes later. He wondered if that had been what finally killed his phone's battery. The conversation only lasted about two minutes, so it was possible. He turned his phone back off and let it continue charging.

According to Balthazar, Michael was after his blood now. Fine. Let the bastard come for him. He wasn't going down without a fight.

* * *

_Dubai, 9:00 PM local time._

Inias and Samandriel had exhausted nearly all of their resources in ascertaining the hotel that Chuck Milligan was staying at, but they did finally confirm it. Even better, the hotel was only a block away from theirs. But they knew they had to move fast, because Chuck had apparently canceled his reservation effective the next morning. They had to move now.

This was how they ended up knocking on the door of Chuck's suite shortly after nine o'clock.

Neither of them had actually met Chuck Milligan before—although they had both seen pictures—so they didn't really know what to expect. But what they'd fathomed was completely wrong.

Inias had imagined Chuck to be about six inches taller, and he'd never seen him wearing glasses. Samandriel hadn't expected him to be wearing a bathrobe.

Chuck blinked up at them. He wasn't sure how concerned or confused he should be, but he decided that "very" was probably appropriate. "You must be Inias Collins and Samandriel Benedict," he said. "I'm assuming you're here to tell me about Gabriel. I already know."

Inias and Samandriel exchanged glances. "No," Inias said quickly. "That's not it at all. H-how did you know our names?"

Chuck let out a short sigh, glanced up and down the hallway, and stepped back. "You might as well come in."

Inias and Samandriel looked at each other again before Inias led the way inside.

"I know the names of just about everyone my sons employ," Chuck explained. He continued walking through the kitchen and living area to the bedroom as he walked, and the two young men hesitantly followed him. "Besides, you look like people Castiel would have working for him. You remind me of him." He didn't really look at them as he spoke. He moved around the room in a flurry, taking suits out of the closet and packing them in a garment bag.

"Thank you, sir," Inias said, sounding puzzled.

"Just 'Chuck.' Formalities aren't necessary." He paused for a moment and looked from one of them to the other. "So. Tell me. If you're not here to tell me about Gabriel, why _are_ you here? I thought Charlie told you lot I was in Egypt."

"She did," Samandriel said quickly. "I just… haven't quite gotten used to the time difference. Last night, I was out on the balcony and I saw you talking to her. That was what made it pretty clear she lied to us."

Chuck chuckled briefly, although there was no real mirth behind the sound. "Well, I don't know whether to feel relieved or like an idiot. Lately, I've been leaning a little more toward the latter." He zipped up his garment bag and hung it on the door behind Samandriel.

"Why?" Inias asked. "And… what happened to Gabriel? We… when we spoke to Castiel earlier, he didn't mention anything about Gabriel."

Chuck sighed and rubbed his eyes for a minute. "I guess it's possible he doesn't know. Well, both your questions have the same answer." He sat on the edge of his bed, carefully studying the joint of the wall and the floor. "I got a call this morning from Joshua. Apparently…" He looked up at them. "Gabriel died last night." He let out a shuddering sigh and closed his eyes, trying to keep himself from breaking down again. It wouldn't do to crumble, no matter how much he wanted to. He had no qualms about Inias and Samandriel seeing him like this, but he really needed to finish packing and getting ready for his flight the next morning. He'd mislaid his passport but he always assumed he'd have a bit of extra time to find it. "And from what Joshua tells me, Lucifer was the one who killed him. I… I don't know what happened. I thought…" Chuck shook his head. "But it doesn't matter anymore. Gabriel's dead and Lucifer…" He tried to summon anger against his son, but all he felt was the cold crush of heartbreak. He simply couldn't comprehend how one of his sons could possibly take the life of his brother. It didn't seem real. How could something like this actually happen? How could Lucifer…? "Anyway. I'm heading back home. I was wrong about a lot of things. I had hoped my sons didn't need me around anymore. I had hoped I didn't need to settle their disputes anymore. I had hoped…" He ran his fingers through his hair. "I had hoped I'd taught them well. But when one of my sons kills his brother, I suppose it just illustrates that I haven't taught them anything. I failed."

"Sir. Chuck. I don't know if it's any consolation, but maybe there is some good that can come out of this. Celestial City has been in a state of mayhem basically since you left. Your return will only be a good thing," Samandriel said quietly. He looked to be devastated by the news, but that wasn't surprising. He and Inias had only met Gabriel Milligan once, but the man left a lasting impression. It was almost unfathomable that he was gone.

"I hope so," Chuck murmured.

A beat of silence passed before Inias broke it. "I'm sorry about Gabriel. He… he was a good man."

Chuck nodded briefly and stood up. "Thank you. So, why did Castiel send you two here? Was it to talk me into coming back? Because you can tell him I'm coming back anyway."

"I believe that may have been the initial intent, but I'm not certain anymore. He may have had something different in mind." Inias glanced at his watch. "He said he would be calling us again at three AM our time. We'll ask him then."

"Alright." Chuck cast a glance back at his half-packed suitcase. "If you don't mind, boys, I… I need to be alone for a little while. All of this… it's a bit much to take in at once."

"Do you already have a flight?" Inias asked.

"Yes. I'm leaving tomorrow at noon. It was the earliest I could get a charter."

"Alright, sir. We'll be back before then, I'm sure."

"I'm leaving here around nine," Chuck said. "If you intend to speak to me before I get on my flight, you should do it before I check out."

"We'll be back," Samandriel reassured him.

Chuck nodded with a half-smile. "I don't doubt that."

* * *

"Do you think Castiel really doesn't know?" Samandriel asked as soon as they were safely ensconced in their own hotel room. His expression spoke volumes to his worry. He didn't like the idea of Castiel not being aware of his own brother's death.

Inias rubbed his temples. "I have no idea. If he knew, why wouldn't he tell us? Unless he had a good reason for it…"

"But what reason could that be?"

Inias shook his head. "Again, I have no idea. I guess we'll just have to ask him when he calls back."

Samandriel sighed and practically threw himself onto the bed. "Well, in that case, I'm gonna take a nap. We've got, what, five hours before he said he'd call back?"

"Yes. By the way, great timing on finally adjusting to the local time. Right when we're about to be heading back home."

"Yeah, yeah," Samandriel mumbled, his face already buried in the pillow. "I knew it would happen."

Inias chuckled softly and settled himself next to Samandriel, kicking off his shoes. As the younger man drifted off, still fully clothed, he stayed awake, lazily rubbing his back and waiting for the phone to ring.

* * *

He must have fallen asleep. During the intervening hours, he'd turned off the overhead light before climbing back onto the bed. His head had tilted back against the wall in a light doze, his thoughts gradually merging into dreams. He vaguely recalled Samandriel sleepily removing his own jacket and shoes and climbing under the bedspread, jostling Inias slightly. The younger man was now snoring softly.

It was quiet and peaceful there, with the windows shut. But when the call finally did come through, it jolted Inias awake. The phone fell out of his hand and onto the plushly-carpeted floor, and he scrambled to retrieve it before it woke Samandriel. No need for both of them to be awake right now.

"Castiel?"

"Good morning, Inias. Did you manage to contact my father?"

"Y-yes." He glanced at Samandriel's still-sleeping form. "He's making preparations to return home. It's just that… I don't know what you intended for us to accomplish. It appears there's been some bad news." He swallowed hard. He didn't like the idea that he would be the one to break this news to Castiel. "Your brother Gabriel is dead."

There was a beat of silence. Then— "Hold on." The next minute was just a stream of muffled voices—it could have been two or three, Inias wasn't sure—but when Castiel finally came back on the line, he said, "Gabriel isn't dead."

"He… what? But… your father was called by Joshua. Joshua told him—"

"I know what Joshua told my father. I'm telling you that he's wrong. Gabriel is alive."

"Are you sure, though?"

"I am positive. He's sitting right across from me."

"Then how—"

"It's a very long story. What I need you to do, though, is find my father again and relay a message. Tell him that Gabriel is still alive, but that it is imperative that he returns anyway. Michael means to kill Lucifer in retaliation, and my father is the only one who can put a stop to it."

"But… why not Gabriel?"

Castiel sighed. "I have been working with Gabriel for the past few days to protect a pair of… assets that Michael and Lucifer have been determined to acquire. We cannot let them locate these assets. Gabriel faked his death to ensure that these assets would remain far from Michael and Lucifer. If Gabriel was to reemerge alive, I believe that Michael and Lucifer would return their attention to apprehending these two. I repeat, that is something we cannot allow to happen. As I said, my father is the only one who can stop this. And I also believe that, were Gabriel to reveal that he'd deceived all of us—especially like this, when most of my family is grieving someone who isn't actually dead—they will be… angry."

"Oh," Inias said. "So you want Samandriel and me to tell your father that his son isn't actually dead and it's all a big misunderstanding." The insolence in his tone was almost palpable.

"Inias." There was something akin to a smile in Castiel's voice. "My father is not like Michael and Lucifer. My brothers will be enraged. At this point, I don't believe my father will feel anything but relief. But you must stress to him that he needs to come home anyway. Michael is out for Lucifer's blood. We've passed along the information to him and told him to be careful, but if my father returns, I believe Michael will see sense and relent."

"We can do that. His flight leaves tomorrow at noon, but of course, I look forward to being a harbinger of joy."

"Yes. I imagine he's in a great deal of emotional pain right now. We didn't—well, I shouldn't say 'we,' because this was entirely Gabriel's idea. He didn't tell me anything until after the fact. His intent was not to hurt his family, but to save another."

Inias wasn't sure exactly what Castiel was talking about. "I see. So you knew that Gabriel was rumored to be dead?"

"I did.

"Why didn't you tell us before we went to see your father?"

"Because I didn't know if he knew already. If I told you and he didn't know, I'm assuming you would have told him."

"Of course."

"But Gabriel is still alive. And I would have told you the opposite. I would have been lying to you and lying to my father, and a lie like that would cause everyone a great deal of pain and worry. Being the cause of that, especially when I know for a fact that such information is inaccurate, would not have sat well."

"Alright. I… I think I understand. What were we supposed to accomplish by meeting with your father today?"

"You accomplished exactly what you were supposed to. You found out how much he knew about the situation here, and you learned what his plans were. You said he has a flight home tomorrow, correct?"

"Yes. At noon. He said it was the earliest he could charter a flight. He was actually in the middle of packing when we spoke to him."

"Good." Castiel sighed with relief. "As soon as my father is on the plane, you and Samandriel can come home."

"We both look forward to it."

He chuckled softly. "I imagine so. Just remember to let my father know that Gabriel is still alive."

"We will. We'll talk to him before he leaves."

"Thank you." Castiel hung up without waiting for a response, and Inias felt a smile cross his face. So, Gabriel was definitely still alive. It seemed as though the metaphorical clouds had parted. When everything was said and done, Chuck would return, the Milligans would rejoice, and they would all rest more easily.

He set his alarm for three hours from now, crawled under the duvet, and pulled Samandriel to him. The blonde stirred in his sleep but didn't wake up. That was fine. He'd been through a lot in the last thirty-six hours. They both had. He deserved what sleep he got.

Inias would tell him the good news in the morning. For right now, they could just enjoy the rest of the night.


	22. Chapter 22

_Dubai, 6:00 AM local time._

The alarm went off, shattering the blissful silence, and Samandriel sat bolt upright, looking left and right frantically until he located the source of the shrill buzzing. It wasn't so much the alarm as Samandriel's sudden movement that had Inias awake so quickly, but he reached over and silenced the alarm clock anyway.

"What happened?" Samandriel asked anxiously, once he remembered where he was. "What time is it? Did Castiel call?"

Inias chuckled at the barrage of questions and nodded. "You fell asleep, and you just didn't want to wake up after that. It's six in the morning, and yes, Castiel called last night."

"What did he say?" Samandriel yawned and rubbed his eyes.

Inias couldn't hold back his smile. "Gabriel isn't dead. He's very much alive."

"Wait, _what_?"

"Castiel said that Gabriel was sitting right across from him. I believe him."

Samandriel blinked at him for a moment before a huge grin blossomed across his face. He laughed triumphantly and planted a delighted kiss on Inias's cheek, causing the older man's smile to widen. "But how?" Samandriel asked.

"Apparently everyone still thinks he's dead, but it seems like Castiel is the only one who knows the truth. It's… the situation—how he survived, I mean—it wasn't completely explained to me, but Castiel told me that we need to find Chuck and let him know Gabriel is still alive."

Samandriel gave him a confused look. "So… Castiel doesn't want Chuck to come home then?"

"No, actually, that's the other thing. Chuck still needs to come home. Michael still believes Gabriel to be dead and that Lucifer is the one to blame. He plans to kill Lucifer as a means of retaliation, so we need to get Chuck home before that can happen." Inias slid out of bed and started straightening his suit out. It was badly in need of an ironing, but at this point, it didn't matter how they looked. They needed to get back to Chuck as soon as possible. "Let's get going. We'll get breakfast afterward, okay?"

Even though his stomach was growling, Samandriel grinned and nodded. "Yeah, okay." He got out of bed and slid his suit jacket on. "So Gabriel's really still alive?"

"According to Castiel, yes."

"Wow." Samandriel's grin widened. "He's a tricky guy, isn't he?"

Inias snorted with laughter. "I suppose that's one way of putting it. It will certainly be something to ask him about later."

They practically raced out of their cramped hotel room ten minutes later, as soon as they'd gotten themselves looking as presentable as possible, and a half an hour later found them knocking on the door of Chuck's hotel suite. Both of them were nearly bubbling over with excitement. If the news that Gabriel's death was inaccurate didn't immediately cheer him up, nothing would.

When Chuck answered the door, he looked mercifully more put-together than he had the previous night. He'd shaved and put on a tan sport coat with matching trousers and a white dress shirt. It certainly looked like he was ready to go home. He "hmm"ed when he saw them, not looking displeased necessarily. _Resigned_ would have been the right word. He'd accepted that they would be there again and there was nothing he could do about it. "I'm nearly ready to go," he said. "I expect you are, too, eh?" he asked, walking back inside but leaving the door open. It was an obvious invitation for Inias and Samandriel to come inside.

"Yes, sir—sorry, Chuck," Inias said immediately. "But I spoke to Castiel this morning and he had some news he wanted to pass on to you. And I think you're going to be very happy."

Chuck gave him a look that clearly said he was having none of Inias's shit today. "Heaven forbid you keep me in suspense," he said with a tone that could almost be described as sarcastic. He didn't typically employ sarcasm, which spoke volumes to his duress.

"Gabriel is alive."

Whatever Chuck may have been expecting, that clearly wasn't it. His expression shifted to one of bewilderment and disbelief, and then to utter devastation. "Don't… don't say that," he muttered, turning his back. He didn't believe Inias. He might have even been afraid to believe him.

"I'm being serious, Chuck. I… I wouldn't joke about something like that. Castiel said that Gabriel was right there with him as we spoke."

Chuck was silent for a few moments before turning back around. "Do you believe him?" He seemed to be looking for any excuse to hope that maybe, what Inias was saying was true.

"I have no reason not to. It certainly sounded like Gabriel was there." He smiled reassuringly at Chuck.

He looked nearly convinced. "Did Castiel explain why…" He seemed to search for the right words. "Why this is happening? Did Gabriel fake his death or was there a lot of hearsay or…?"

"I'm… not entirely sure, but Castiel did say that he purposely faked his death. It was… Castiel said it was to protect a pair of assets. He didn't specify what those assets were, but he said that Michael and Lucifer were determined to acquire them and that the deception was necessary to keep them safe. I don't know how, of course, but he also said that Gabriel is reluctant to come forward right now. So far, only Castiel knows he's still alive. And the three of us, of course."

As Inias spoke, Chuck appeared to relax and he began nodding. He even smiled. "They do have a flair for the dramatic, my sons. I'm not surprised he went to such extreme measures. He must be protecting something important."

"But you do still need to come home," Inias said softly. "Everyone else believes Gabriel to be dead—Michael and Lucifer included. Michael blames Lucifer. He's bent on killing Lucifer in retaliation, and with Gabriel still in hiding, you're the only one who can stop him."

The smile slid off Chuck's face almost immediately. "I see," he murmured.

He'd been away for far too long. He saw that now. Gabriel's "death" had just proved that, and he felt more grateful than words could describe that his son was still alive. But he couldn't lose another family member. Not like this. It would be senseless, an utter waste. He was fortunate that his family was still whole. To have it broken again might very well destroy him.

He nodded at the two boys in front of him, coming to a decision. "Pack up. You're coming back with me."

* * *

_Celestial City, 11:30 PM local time._

"Crowley and Azazel have resumed the search for your father in Egypt," Roman said calmly.

Lucifer waved his hand to dismiss this information. In the intervening hours, he'd cleaned up and downed six aspirin to get rid of his headache. He certainly wasn't feeling at the top of his game, but he was in far better condition than seven hours ago. And locating his father had taken a backseat to his new exception with Michael. "Irrelevant. I doubt they'll find him. It's a fool's errand." He knew perfectly well that the only reason he'd even sent Crowley and Azazel was because Michael had sent two of his own agents. Michael would find it suspect if Lucifer didn't follow suit and assume—rightly so—that he had something planned. Attempting to best Michael was something he always did, and to deviate from that pattern now would have caused a great deal of irritation for him. Michael, no doubt, would pester him relentlessly.

No, right now, what weighed more heavily on his mind was Michael's threat on his life. With this news, he'd initially been saddened, almost resigned. But after sleeping on it, his own brand of righteous fury—that wasn't so much righteous as self-righteous—had taken over. He stood up. "Did you call everyone?"

"They're waiting," Roman confirmed.

"Good." Lucifer quickly ran his fingers through his hair and led the way out of his office and through the main floor of the casino toward the back room. He smiled for the people still on the floor, ever the picture of a put-together owner; he was well-aware of what his image meant now even though he still had no idea what he had done last night after leaving Balthazar… No, he was not thinking about that right now.

Silence descended in the back room as he pushed open the door. He cast a quick glance around and pretended he didn't notice that Balthazar, for whatever reason, wasn't present. But this promised to be bloody. He wasn't sure he wanted Balthazar involved in this at all.

His smooth smile slid into place. "Thanks for coming here on such short notice. I'll make this quick.

"I'm sure by now most of you have heard the new rumor on the street. My brother Michael means to kill me. He blames _me_ for killing Gabriel who, you may remember, was secretly working against both Michael and me." (Michael was right for blaming him and he knew it but if anyone could twist the situation to his advantage, it was Lucifer.) "He would have done the same, had he been put in my situation, and he would have called it 'just.' He would have called it 'reasonable,' 'defensible,' 'deserved.' He would have believed himself vindicated for this. But it was not Michael who discovered Gabriel's treachery. It was me." (Oh, God, these bitter words killed him to say. He was wrong—he was so wrong. Michael wouldn't have lost control. Michael wouldn't have succumbed. Michael wouldn't have killed Gabriel. Not over sheltering the Winchesters, never.) "And I did what was right by me and by Michael.

"And Michael believes I am wrong. He believes it was an act of revenge, and he intends to exact his retribution. He has openly declared war on me, on all of us. He believes he can pass judgment on me for something he himself would have done, but who is he make that call? Who is he to judge for one life taken, a man who has taken countless lives already? Certainly there is blood on _my_ hands, but it's less than the blood on his. This man believes himself to be our father, and he is sorely mistaken. And with his threat against my life, the last line has been crossed.

"As of tonight," he went on, voice rising as he began to circle the perimeter of the room, "we are at war! Our very existence is threatened by one who once called us brothers and sisters! He threatens you just as he threatens me! For standing with me tonight, each of you now has a price on your head!" (He was extrapolating, but his words had the intended effect. His gathered supporters, far from looking afraid of this news, looked angry, thirsty for blood. The fight would no doubt be impressive.) "This betrayal will not simply be accepted! We will fight back! He has no right to pass judgment on any of us! No, not the man who makes it a habit of executing his own followers for the most minor of offenses! How many of you have felt the cool touch of my forgiveness?" (Another reason he avoided killing the people who worked for him. It was just better for business and better for morale. Michael ran a strict organization, highly disciplined, but they were afraid of him. Lucifer's people were careful and wary of incurring his wrath, but they didn't fear for their lives, which only improved loyalty.) "And he believes _I_ am the monster! He believes _I_ am the evil one! Well, he started this war! Let's bring the war to him!"

And his supporters, driven to an angry, self-righteous, indignant frenzy, cheered and applauded. For a moment, he felt like a general, leading his troops into battle. And lead he would. When push came to shove, he was unafraid to get his hands dirty. Besides, there was only one way this could end, and that was bloody.

Michael would pay for this betrayal.

* * *

_Dubai, 8:30 AM local time._

Chuck anxiously drummed his fingers on the desk, his cell phone pressed to his ear. Inias and Samandriel had hurriedly packed their bags and returned. They were at the kitchen table, silently observing the older man who had ceased his nervous finger-drumming in favor of standing and pacing. With a sigh of frustration, he hung up and immediately started dialing again. He made two complete circuits of the living room before sighing again and hanging up again. "Michael isn't answering his main phone or his private line," he muttered, half to himself and half to the other two. He began dialing another number and paced again.

Inias and Samandriel had returned to this scene about twenty minutes prior. They weren't sure what Chuck was trying to accomplish, short of getting in touch with one of his sons, but to that end, he hadn't met with any success so far. They weren't sure if they should ask what was happening and so settled for waiting at the table for Chuck to explain in his own time.

He groaned and hung up. "His cell phone is turned off, too." He ran his fingers through his hair. "This is a nightmare," he murmured. "You'd think he would have learned to invest in a voicemail-box by this time." He let out another sigh and dialed another number. "I can't believe this."

Inias and Samandriel exchanged concerned glances but still didn't ask.

"I can't believe this. No one is answering their phones!" Chuck's voice rose in frustration and he stopped pacing. Instead, he put his hands on his head, twisting his fingers through the brown curls of his hair, and appeared to mentally scramble for something.

"Who are you trying to call?" Samandriel asked timidly.

"Someone. Anyone. Ideally, Michael. He… He honestly believes he's doing the right thing by killing Lucifer?"

Inias cast a quick, nervous look at Samandriel before speaking. "It sounded like he thought he was doing what you wanted. That's all he's been doing for the last six months, actually. Every action he took, he believed was what you wanted. He thinks he's been following your plan, even though I guess you didn't really leave one."

"I shouldn't _have_ to leave a plan! I mean, I figured 'don't kill each other' was obvious even though I didn't say it, but apparently, that was too much to hope for. They're thirty years old! They…" He sighed. "Why do I still have to issue orders? They're adults. Michael's trying to start a family of his own. At this point, I should be able to take a back seat, start thinking about retiring, right? I can't do this forever." He closed his eyes and exhaled through his nose. When he opened his eyes, the sky-blue in them had turned steely and determined. He started dialing again. "Did Castiel leave a number for you to contact him?" he asked as the line rang.

Inias shook his head. "He's only called us for the last day or so. He said he left his phone at his house and he's not home. I don't know what number he's been using to call us, but it shows up as restricted on our phones."

"Probably a satellite phone," Chuck murmured. He groaned as the line went dead in his ear again. "Did he say where he was?"

"No, sorry."

Chuck just waved his hand and called another number. This one went right to voicemail. _"This is Lu. I can't answer right now. Leave me a message."_ He sighed in irritation before the message beeped. "Lucifer, it's Dad. Listen to me, okay? I… I don't know what good it'll do, but I've been calling you and Michael for close to an hour now and I know it's late where you are but I am coming home. You hear me? I'm coming home." Chuck swallowed, fighting back the tears that started to prick at his eyes. No matter the circumstances, it was a relief to finally say the words out loud. "I'm getting on a plane in…" He checked his watch. "Three and a half hours. I'm going to be home tomorrow. That'll be Tuesday for you, I guess. Please, if you can get in contact with Michael… I know things are strained between you, but if you talk to Michael, let him know I'm coming home. I called him a dozen times and he hasn't answered and he doesn't have voicemail and… Anyway, I love you. I'll be home soon." He hung up and sighed. He was starting to regret not getting Rachel and Meg's cell phone numbers before he left. If anyone could talk sense into Michael and Lucifer besides him, it would be their wives.

He stood awkwardly in the middle of the room for a moment, gently biting one of his knuckles in concern. "Raphael," he murmured suddenly, and started dialing yet again.

Inias and Samandriel exchanged glances. This started to seem very bad. Hopefully Chuck would be able to contact one of his sons, but if he wasn't… Well, Michael couldn't put his plan into motion within the next day, right? Lucifer would be okay until they came back. And then Chuck would be home and the whole mess would disappear in the blissful reunion of the Milligans, and Gabriel could reemerge and the family would be back together again.

Chuck growled, rolling his eyes skyward. Apparently, Raphael's number had been a failure as well. "Raphael, it's Dad. I'm coming home, son. When you get this message, call Michael, please." A desperate edge sharpened his tone. "Whatever you do, tell him not to kill Lucifer, okay? I know what happened—I know about Gabriel. But do not let him kill Lucifer, please! I can't… I can't lose another one of you, okay?" He took a steadying breath. "I'll be home soon. Very soon. I love you. Take care of your brothers, Raphael." He cut the connection and looked at Inias and Samandriel again. Suddenly, he seemed to be hit by another bolt of inspiration.

With his next call, he finally spoke to someone. "Joshua?"

"Chuck! Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Joshua, just fine. Listen, I'm getting on a plane in a few hours to come home. I've tried to call Michael and Lucifer and Raphael and Ga…" His voice cut off for a moment. Even the thought that Gabriel might really be dead, the reminder that just about everyone thought he was dead, was painful. "I mean, Castiel. None of them are answering. They all have their phones off and I know it's late, but I was only able to leave messages with Lucifer and Raphael."

"What do you need me to do?"

"Contact Michael immediately. He's the one I'm most concerned with. He's planning to kill Lucifer and that cannot happen. I can't lose anyone else, Joshua. I can't do it. Do whatever you have to do—find Michael. Make him see sense. Keep trying to call Lucifer and Raphael, too. Anything you can do to let them know I'm coming back."

"And Castiel?"

"He knows I'm coming. I have his dispatches here still. They're returning with me."

"Very well. I've got it under control."

Chuck breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Joshua."

"I look forward to seeing you again, sir."

He smiled. He had long since given up on telling Joshua not to call him "sir." "And I, you." He hung up and looked over at Inias and Samandriel. "Let's go home."


	23. Chapter 23

_Outside Celestial City, 5:00 AM local time._

Dean woke slowly, feeling like he was still in the middle of a dream. The bed seemed far too luxurious to be anything that he would have slept on, but he had the nagging feeling at the back of his head that he was missing something. The California king seemed almost empty.

When he was finally able to open his eyes, the sun was already peeking through the blinds in the room even though it was barely five in the morning. _Oh._ That explained things. He consistently woke in a state of disorientation, completely forgetting where he was for a few moments, but he remembered now. Gabriel's safehouse, huddled up in the master bedroom with Castiel—

Who was apparently not even in the room. He surveyed the room briefly and noted that the side of the bed Castiel slept on was already made. That—the fact that they'd slipped into each others' lives so easily—was almost a miracle. For the last nearly six years, it had just been him and Sam against the world. No one had ever been able to assimilate so easily with him except Castiel Milligan.

That fact, that he was a Milligan, was something else entirely. He'd had the impression that Chuck and Gabriel were the only two halfway decent people in the family, and that the rest of them—Michael and Lucifer and their other two brothers—were dicks. And while Gabriel had his moments, for the most part, he was a good guy.

But Castiel was something else completely. Even without knowing him or Sam, Castiel had immediately stepped up to help them. Though John Winchester had always told Dean to avoid dealing with the Milligans as much as possible, he found it hard to believe that Castiel had ulterior motives. Looking back on their shared pasts—the Winchesters' and the Milligans'—it was starting to become more apparent that maybe Chuck hadn't had ulterior motives either when he first offered his help to John.

He slid out of bed and tugged a clean shirt over his head. Despite the early hour, he could hear sounds coming from the kitchen. It sounded like Gabriel giggling and faint bangs as cupboard doors opened and closed. Dean wondered if he even wanted to know what was going on, but curiosity got the better of him and he went to the kitchen to see what was going on.

It certainly had been Gabriel laughing. He was throwing together a batch of pancakes, and Dean couldn't help feeling a bit impressed that Milligan knew how to cook anything. He'd figured that none of the Milligans had ever really had to do anything for themselves, and maybe they hadn't, but somehow, Gabriel had picked up this one skill.

Even more intriguingly, Sam was watching the chaos with amusement, occasionally fetching an ingredient when Gabriel asked him to, but staying out of the way for the most part. He was leaning against the fridge, his hands wrapped around a cup of coffee, grinning at whatever it was Gabriel was doing—currently, the elder Milligan was juggling several eggs. Dean heard a faint chuckle behind him, and when he turned around, he saw Castiel standing near a window in the living room, looking from the scene in the kitchen to outside.

"Hey," Dean said, flashing a small smile at Castiel. "What's up?"

"It began to snow last night," Castiel said. The declaration was unnecessary since the inch or so of snow on the ground was clearly visible, but he said it anyway.

"Trying not to think about that," Gabriel said in a sing-song tone as he stopped juggling the eggs and cracked them in a bowl.

"Why—?" Dean started, but Castiel beat him to the punch.

"Winter was always the best season for our family. The first snowfall of the season was… special, I suppose. Lucifer's birthday was yesterday," he added quietly. "I don't know if you knew that."

"I… wow, I had no idea." He glanced at Sam. "Did you know?"

Sam shook his head. "No, no clue."

"Why would you?" Gabriel asked. His upbeat mood seemed to be fading fast. "It wasn't that big of a deal. I mean, maybe for him, it was, but it never came up, right?" He mixed some flour into the pancake batter. "So what?"

Castiel sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. "Anyway," he said abruptly, "assuming everything went according to plan—"

"Oh, so we're assuming _that_ now," Gabriel half-joked, but there was an undercurrent of sarcasm in his tone.

Castiel shot his older brother a warning look. "I have no cause not to assume that. So, assuming everything went according to plan, my father got on a charter plane bound home two hours ago."

"What's his ETA again?" Gabriel asked.

"Seven-thirty this evening. Assuming everything goes according to plan," Castiel added with a faint smile.

"So, we just wait here until he gets back?" Sam asked. He took a sip of his coffee.

Gabriel nodded. "Basically, yeah." He finished dumping the rest of the ingredients into the batter. The pancake batter was in a plastic mixing bowl with a lid that he snapped on the top to allow him to pour it into perfect pancake shapes on the griddle, which was currently sizzling on the stovetop.

"So a weekend in the woods, and we resume our normal lives tomorrow?" Sam went on.

"It may not be that easy," Castiel said softly. "When my father returns, my brothers will no doubt be elated. However, I'm not certain that either of you will be safe for some time. You will be if my father has anything to say about it, but… you may not be completely safe ever again."

"Hey, I think _I'm_ the one with the most to worry about," Gabriel pointed out as he finished pouring out the batter. "I was the one who faked their own death. When Lucifer finds out I'm still alive, he's gonna be pissed."

"True." Castiel bit his lip for a moment, then focused his attention back on Dean and Sam. "Michael and Lucifer will probably be angry for awhile. It would be better to lay low for awhile. Perhaps leaving Celestial City for good is an option to consider."

Dean had to admit to himself that Castiel's suggestion was a good one. It would certainly be the smartest option. The only problem was, he didn't have any skills that could be considered "marketable." Most prospective employers weren't looking for applicants whose accomplishments included execution. Sam would have better luck starting over somewhere new, of course, which would be more than enough reason for Dean to follow him.

But the really mystifying thing was how quickly his mind jumped to _What about Cas?_ It was strange. They'd only known each other for a few days, but the idea of leaving Castiel and never seeing him again was almost terrifying. There was obviously something between them—he'd never found himself so drawn to someone so quickly. It would be almost criminal to leave without finding out where it could take them.

And judging by the looks he happened to catch Sam slinging at Gabriel, his younger brother would have to agree, but with the elder Milligan. Maybe that should have worried Dean, but for some reason, Gabriel had Sam smiling and laughing more than he'd ever seen, and Gabriel couldn't seem to take his eyes off Sam. It was a side of Gabriel that Dean had never seen before.

Would they be able to do it? Leave Celestial City, tear off to the other side of the country, start over somewhere else? Probably. But he had a sneaking feeling that neither of them would be too happy about it. Not if it involved leaving Castiel and Gabriel Milligan.

He wondered what John Winchester would have said if he knew what was happening.

"What about you?" Dean asked, looking right at Castiel. "I thought you said you wanted to get out, too."

"I do," Castiel said carefully. "That is the eventual plan. But I think that, after my father returns home, I will want to stay here for awhile longer. It's been months since I've seen him, and I miss him."

"Same," Gabriel called over from the stove, starting to flip the pancakes. There was the definite sickly-sweet scent of warming chocolate coming from the kitchen and Dean realized he must have put chocolate chips in the pancakes. "I mean, Mikey and Lucy are gonna be pissed off at the world for awhile, so after a few weeks of enjoying some time with Dad, I may just clear out until the whole thing blows over."

Sam, who had been silent this whole time, finally spoke up. "For what it's worth, Dean, I don't really want to leave. I mean, yeah, it might be a good idea, but I've got a semester of school left before I graduate, and all of my friends are back in the city. I don't think I'm willing to start over right now." He cast Gabriel the tiniest of glances before looking back at Dean. "Eventually, I'll probably be ready to leave. I know that's all we talked about since Dad died—getting out of here. But I can wait a little longer."

"Y-yeah," Dean said nervously. "We can talk about this later, though." When the Milligans weren't around and they could actually talk.

* * *

Breakfast was actually fairly enjoyable, and it wasn't just the food—although, somehow, cooking seemed to be one of Gabriel's better talents. For an hour or so, they were able to forget what was happening in the real world and just be two sets of brothers, hanging out and making fun of each other. It was relaxing. Even with Castiel occasionally checking his watch—he seemed to be mentally counting down the hours until his father returned—Dean was able to distract him long enough for him to crack a smile.

But after breakfast was over and Castiel went back to fretting over the situation, pacing the living room so much that Dean thought he could see the path he was wearing through the rug, Dean and Sam went to what now functioned as a spare bedroom to talk.

"So you really don't want to leave the city?" Dean asked as soon as the door was closed. He tried to keep the accusatory tone out of his voice but failed miserably.

"Not right now, Dean."

" _Why_? I mean, for the love of God, this whole mess should just make you want to leave more!"

"Look, I told you. Maybe this is hard for you to comprehend, but I actually have friends back home." The words had flown out of his mouth before he could stop them, and now they were out in the open.

Dean was looking at him stunned, as though Sam had just slapped him. "Wow, where is all _this_ coming from all of a sudden?"

Sam immediately regretted what he'd said, but there was no taking them back now. "Dean, you don't have friends. All you have is work and me. It would be so easy for you to just pick up and leave, but I can't do that, okay?"

"You know _why_ I did that, Sam? For you. I always had this feeling that something, some shit like this was gonna happen, and that we'd need to be ready to just leave. I did this for _you_ , Sam! Everything was for you!"

"Did I _ask_ for this, Dean? I mean, up until this point, you've been pretty much blindly assuming that I'd be okay with all of this. I didn't ask you shelter me from this—"

"No, you didn't, because I know what these people are capable of! And, okay, Gabriel and Castiel Milligan are the least of our concerns, but Michael and Lucifer—"

"Exactly, Dean! I knew nothing about this! And then one day, I get a freaking email from Lucifer Milligan, and what am I supposed to think? And then I find out that you…" His voice trailed off. He didn't want to go there. Not right now.

But Dean wasn't letting him get off that easily. "And then you find out that I _what_ , Sam?" He seemed to be daring Sam to say what was on his mind.

"And then I find out you're a killer. What am I supposed to think about that?"

_Again_ with this issue? "Sam, you don't get it. I've been keeping people safe my whole life. You don't know a damn thing about the people I killed! They were evil—murderers and rapists, people who hurt other people! I was saving people, helping people! Every time I pulled that trigger and killed a murderer, I imagined that, if I hadn't, one day, they would get you or one of your friends. One day, the victim wouldn't be some stranger. One day, it would be someone we knew, or you, or me. That's what kept me going. Knowing that there are people who are alive today who might not be alive if I hadn't put a bullet through some asshole's head. Okay, Sam? Besides, when you've got shit like that on your mind, it's not easy to trust people you don't know well. I'm not like you. I can't just befriend people. So I… I kept people away. It was easier.

"Can you honestly tell me you'd have wanted to be part of this? Knowing now about this, would you really have wanted me to be exposed to this? Come on, Sam," he added, his voice softening. "This kind of life… you weren't meant for it."

"Maybe not," Sam muttered, "but that should have been my call to make." He brushed past Dean and stormed out of the room. Dean just stood there until he heard the front door open and then slam closed a few seconds later. About a minute after that, footsteps made their way to the door and someone opened it. "Sam?" Gabriel called, his voice disappearing into the falling snow, and then the door closed behind him.

"I take it you had a fight," Castiel said quietly, startling Dean.

"Y-you could say that, I guess. It wasn't really a fight, but… we just disagree on some things."

Castiel nodded tersely. "I understand. If I may ask, what was your disagreement about?"

He didn't really want to answer, but he felt he owed Castiel a bit of an explanation. "Just… he doesn't really want to leave. I guess I can sort of see what he's saying, but he doesn't seem to understand what's at stake here."

"Maybe he understands more than you think."

"Huh?"

"Well, a few days ago, none of this concerned him. Five days ago, he was completely detached from all of this. And now he'd had to leave everything behind to keep himself safe, trusting two complete strangers, one of whom we all took for dead and then came back to life… Dean, it's a lot to handle all at once. You might have been prepared for this upheaval, but leaving him in the dark was not the right thing to do for him. He had no idea what was coming for him. He probably wants to get back to his life. Can you blame him?"

Dean sighed. Put like that, no, he couldn't really blame Sam for wanting to get back to normal. "So you think I'm wrong for wanting to keep him safe?"

"No," Castiel said carefully, resting his hand on Dean's shoulder. "But I think that not giving him a choice is going to drive him away."

"Well, it's not like we need to decide anything now. Your dad's not even back yet."

Castiel nodded, his hand sliding from Dean's shoulder. "That's very true. I can only hope he returns soon."

* * *

Sam shivered but didn't turn as he heard Gabriel call his name from the door. He didn't turn when he heard the door close or Gabriel's footsteps rapidly approaching. He didn't turn when he felt a coat slide over his shoulders. But Gabriel swung around to face him anyway.

"Sam. What's going on?"

"A lot," he said bitterly.

"Well, yeah, obviously. But what? Come on, we've got all day to talk about this," he added cajolingly, zipping up his own coat.

Sam sighed. "Dean doesn't get that I don't really want to leave Celestial. I mean, if I have to, I will, but I don't feel like there's really a point right now. Your dad comes back and he takes the reins from Michael and Lucifer and the world keeps spinning, right? It's not a big deal to leave."

Gabriel's expression softened. "Sam, I know my brothers. They're dicks. Yeah, my dad is going to take control again, but Michael and Lucifer still have a fair bit of power in their own right. Honestly, my dad may tell them to leave you and Dean alone, and they'll listen to him, but you can't count on my dad making that call. Lucifer is going to be extremely angry for awhile. It won't be a permanent thing, but believe me, Dean's trying to keep you safe. He knows a bit better what my brothers are capable of."

"That's the other thing. He left me in the dark about what was going on. His job, all of you—complete mystery. We never discussed it and I assumed it was for the best, but it wasn't. I had no idea. I was about as well-informed as some random person on the street. I knew a bit, but all the gritty details? I was completely clueless."

"Maybe things would have been different if _Dean_ knew the full scope of what was happening. But all this happened so fast. Dean just found out on Thursday that my brothers were after the two of you. Castiel found out hours before that. None of us knew. Cut the guy a bit of slack," he added with a small smile. "Yeah, he should have given you a bit of insight, but it's not all on him. Sorry to say this, kiddo, but communication is a two-way street. And I'm hardly the guy to be giving advice with two of his brothers basically ready to kill each other, but maybe I know a bit better than you'd think about how failed communication ruins relationships."

Sam sighed. "I guess I never thought about that. I'm sorry about your brothers, by the way."

"They'll be fine, once they get their catfight out of the way." Gabriel clapped his hand on Sam's shoulder. "Now, how about we go back inside? I'm freezing my ass off."

Sam couldn't help but crack a smile at that.


	24. Chapter 24

_Celestial City, 4:30 PM local time._

As soon as Raphael took a seat across from Michael's desk, the elder Milligan offered him a cigar, which Raphael declined. Michael gave a small shrug and lit one of his own before settling back in his chair.

"Did you hear what happened at Perdition last night?"

Raphael raised an eyebrow and shook his head.

"Ah. Well, it was a veritable riot. I don't know exactly what Lucifer told his followers, but whatever it was, it got them quite agitated. I received three reports of our people being attacked last night."

"I see," Raphael said quietly.

"This cannot go unpunished," Michael added with an edge of anger in his voice.

"He's baiting you. He's just trying to infuriate you."

"It's working."

Raphael regarded his brother for a moment and let out a barely-audible sigh. "So what are you planning on doing?"

"It's obvious that he's gearing up for war. Wouldn't you agree?"

Raphael nodded tentatively. "It would seem that way."

"Especially with what was, I'm certain, a stirring assembly last night. A general ready to lead his soldiers into battle."

"I'm sure that thought crossed his mind, too," Raphael half-joked with a small smile.

Michael snorted. "Probably. So, I figure it's high time to do the same."

Raphael's eyebrow quirked up again. "You mean rallying the troops?"

"Yes. That's exactly what I mean."

"So, what do we do? Have Payton organize this meeting?"

Michael nodded once. "Yes. I inadvertently pulverized my cell phone last night. It dropped out of my pocket and smashed right into the pavement."

Raphael chuckled softly. "I'm sorry to hear that. So, this hypothetical gathering of our forces… when would that take place?"

Michael exhaled a stream of smoke and rubbed at the back of his head. "Tonight. Midnight. At the arms warehouse. We can't stay unprotected for long. I'm almost certain Lucifer is planning something else, something worse."

The younger Milligan sighed anxiously. "I'm still not sure about this, Michael. He's still our brother, no matter what he's done."

"Gabriel was our brother, too," said Michael quietly. "That didn't stop Lucifer from icing him."

It was pointless, arguing with Michael about this. His mind couldn't be changed. Raphael saw that now. But he knew, even if Michael refused to see it, that their father was coming back. He could feel it.

He just hoped he could stay Michael's hand until their father returned. Once he came home, Michael would see sense. Even if wouldn't undo what Lucifer had done, at least he wouldn't lose another brother.

And, sure, Lucifer had been a deliberately offensive asshole when they were growing up, but Raphael had known he genuinely cared about them, however deep down he buried it. It almost seemed like he was purposely malicious toward the people he loved most, as if afraid of it being seen as vulnerability. Raphael didn't know what caused him to fire upon Gabriel, but he knew there had to be some explanation, something they weren't seeing.

And now with Michael Hell-bent on his retaliation, it seemed like they would never get that story. After this, how would Lucifer even entertain the notion of speaking to them again?

And where was Castiel in all of this? Did he even know what was going on? Had Lucifer done something to him? After all, it wasn't like Castiel to be this unreachable. Every time he'd called Castiel, the call went straight to voicemail. Raphael had actually run down his battery from the number of calls he'd placed to Castiel, foolishly hoping that, somehow, he'd get through this time.

This was a huge mess, and Michael was still somehow convinced their father wouldn't come home. But with Gabriel dead and Castiel missing, how could he stay away?

* * *

_Celestial City, 5:45 PM local time._

"Your brother is very angry," Roman said, as if this information would be news to Lucifer.

"When is he _not_ angry?"

Roman let out a quick chuckle before his expression resolved into a more determined one. "We received word from Naomi that he's planning to reorganize his soldiers, much like you did last night."

Lucifer rolled his eyes. It figured. Michael hated it when someone bested him at anything. It would only make sense that he'd pull his own stunt after hearing about Lucifer's. Not that he blamed him, either. If their roles were reversed, he'd do the exact same thing. "Did this word specify when and where this would take place?"

"Yes. Midnight tonight at his arms warehouse across town. Are you planning on dropping in?"

Lucifer thought it over for a few moments. The act itself would surely gall Michael to no end. Even now, the idea of infuriating him had a twisted sort of appeal. Besides, catching Michael unawares would almost guarantee he would do something stupid.

But maybe it was time to end this. It didn't necessarily have to be like this, all the fighting. Maybe what it took was Gabriel's death to snap this whole thing in perspective. Maybe they could actually have a civilized conversation for once. "Yes. I think my brother and I are long overdue for a lengthy discussion." Lucifer stood up and straightened out his suit. "I don't want to make a big thing out of this, though. I'm just going over with a two or three people. Michael will no doubt see any more than that as an act of aggression."

"It's not?" Roman asked with a small smile.

Lucifer snorted with laughter. "Not yet."

* * *

_Outside Celestial City, 6:30 PM local time._

The damned satellite phone rang. Gabriel had half a mind to pitch it out the window, but he restrained himself. That would be their last link to the outside world, save the desktop computer in the study, and they did still need to stay in contact with a few of their agents. Still, Gabriel was fairly certain he knew who was on the other line, so he picked up the phone and barked, "Ash, I told you to lose this number."

"Sorry," Ash said unapologetically. "But I figured an emergency like this probably called for drastic measures."

"What emergency? What's happening _now_?"

"Well, last night, Lucifer rallied his people and they ended up taking out a couple of Michael's people. Michael's pissed and he's heading to his arms warehouse to get his own people ready to attack Lucifer's."

"Yeah, so?" Not that he didn't care or anything, but this could hardly be considered an emergency.

"I heard from one of my own people in Lucifer's organization that Lucifer's planning on meeting Michael at the warehouse tonight. If ever there's going to be bloodshed, it'll be tonight."

"Shit!" Oh, this was definitely not good. Had Roché really not spoken to Lucifer? What the fuck was happening? "Damn it." He didn't like his options, but it looked like he almost _had_ to intervene. The escalation in tensions had been a result of his supposed death, so if he were to reveal that he was still alive, the friction between Michael and Lucifer would probably subside, at least somewhat. Besides, with their father coming back tonight, it was highly unlikely that anything would happen to the Winchesters if he decided to emerge. And he would ask his father to protect them afterward, just in case either Michael or Lucifer had retaliation on his mind. He had to believe that his father would keep them safe. "Fuck, alright. I guess I'm heading over there then."

"Are you sure that's smart?"

"Of course not. But right now, it's pretty much my only choice." He sighed. "Keep me posted if anything changes. But lose this number after all this noise is over, you hear me?"

"Yes, sir," Ash said obediently, and he severed the connection.

When Gabriel looked up, three pairs of curious eyes were on him.

"What's going on?" Castiel asked.

"Short version: Michael's got his panties in a twist over Lucifer's stunt last night, so he's pulling one of his own. Lucifer—"

"Wait, what stunt?"

_Fuck._ He'd forgotten that Castiel didn't know about this. "Lucifer made this big speech to his people about how Michael wanted to kill them all and got his people so hot and bothered that I guess a few of Michael's agents got hurt in the aftermath, and Lucifer's people are to blame. Mikey's nice and pissed off now, as you can well imagine. So like I was saying, Michael's planning to do the same tonight, and I guess Lucifer heard about it and decided it was a brilliant idea to meet him there. I don't know what he expects to happen, but it won't be pretty, I can guarantee that." He started dialing. "So unless I can have Roché convince Lucifer not to go tonight, I pretty much have to show my face to avert what will no doubt be a small Armageddon."

The line started ringing as he put the phone back up to his ear. A few moments later, a gruff voice said, "Singer."

"Singer, it's Milligan. Look, I need you to get in contact with Roché immediately. He needs to tell Lucifer that he cannot go to see Michael today."

There was a beat of silence. "Yeah, yeah, I'll relay the message. But… I'm actually worried about Roché."

"Worried how?"

"He… he hasn't been himself. Not in a long time. A few months, at least. I can't figure out what's going on with him."

"He seemed fine when I saw him last."

"That was an act. I could tell. There's something really wrong with him."

Gabriel swallowed hard. This was also definitely not good. He had a feeling that getting as close to Lucifer as he seemed to be would mess with Roché's head, but if it was bad enough for Singer to say something to him, Gabriel definitely had cause to worry. "Why didn't you say anything about in the car?"

"It wasn't this bad then. In the past few days, he got worse. I haven't heard from him in two days and ever since you faked your death, he's been walking around like a zombie or something."

"I just talked to him yesterday and he seemed okay, but…" Gabriel ran his fingers through his hair. "Have you talked to him about it at all?"

"No. I couldn't figure out how to bring it up to him." Singer sighed. "Any thoughts?"

"Yeah, I'll call him. Don't worry about letting him know about talking to Lucifer. I'll do it myself. Just get ready to move, that's all."

"Alright. Good luck."

"Yeah, thanks." Gabriel hung up and immediately started dialing again, ignoring the now-concerned looks his brother and the Winchesters were giving him. He held up his index finger in a _wait a second_ gesture as the phone started ringing.

"Roché."

His voice sounded more strained than the day before. "It's Milligan. Are you okay?"

"Never better."

Well, _that_ was a flat-out lie. Gabriel exited the living room quickly and went to the study. "Bullshit, Roché. You don't sound good at all."

"I'm fine."

Gabriel very nearly groaned. "We'll get back to that in a second. Look, I just found out that Lucifer's planning on meeting Michael at his arms warehouse tonight. It's gonna be bloody if he goes through with it. You're closer to him than Singer is. You have to try to convince him not to go."

"I don't know how much good that'll do," Roché said quietly. "I told him about Michael's death threat yesterday and he seemed… apathetic."

"Apathetic how? What did he say?"

Roché sighed, and Gabriel could definitely hear the strain now. He'd missed it yesterday, but Singer was right. Something was weighing on him. "What it boiled down to," Roché said finally, "was essentially 'bring it on.' I don't know how seriously he took me."

Lucifer was a stubborn son of a bitch. Gabriel ran his fingers through his hair again. "Just try," he said after a moment. "Just tell him to postpone his meeting until tomorrow or something. We just need a few extra hours."

"Alright. I'll try. I can't make any promises, but I'll try."

"Thanks." Gabriel sighed and shifted the phone to his other ear. "Now, back to our earlier discussion."

"I'm fine, sir."

"Singer's worried about you, and he doesn't worry without a good reason. So now I'm worried."

"I don't know why he's concerned. There's no reason for him to be."

Gabriel wanted to punch something. Roché was being deliberately obtuse about this, and it would be infuriating if he wasn't so worried. No matter what Roché said, the more he protested, the more certain he was that Singer was justified in his anxiety. "Well, whatever. As soon as all this blows over, you're taking a vacation. I don't know how much being around Lucifer fucked with your head, but you need a break. You and Singer both. I know working with Lucifer isn't easy, and I'm sorry I put you two through this, but it was for the best. Once my dad gets back, I don't want to see you for two months."

"Alright, sir. Sounds good," Roché said.

Gabriel hung up and stared at the door without really seeing it. He had a feeling he was missing something. Not knowing was disconcerting.

He headed back to the living room, dialing Joshua's number. If anyone would know with any amount of certainty about his father's arrival, it would be him.

"Hello?"

"Joshua? It's Gabriel."

There was a beat of silence. "Don't call here again," the older man said coldly.

"No! Josh, don't hang up!"

Gabriel was the only one who dared call Joshua "Josh." Not even his father did, although it wasn't out of fear. It gave Joshua pause. "Who is this?"

"I told you. It's Gabriel. I'm not dead, okay? I already told my dad, but… Lucifer didn't kill me, okay? I faked my death."

Joshua was silent for almost thirty seconds and Gabriel was worried that he'd hung up anyway. But then he said, "Gabriel?"

"Yes. It's me."

"What happened?"

"I… I had to protect a few people. Faking my death was the only way I could do that. Like I said, my dad already knows. I mean, I think he knows. A couple of Castiel's people got in touch with Dad—"

"Inias Collins and Samandriel Benedict?"

"Yes, them. So I'm pretty sure they told him basically what's going on. So, what I need to know is, have you heard anything from my dad? An adjusted arrival time, delays, anything?"

"As far as I know, his arrival time is still an hour from now. Why?"

Gabriel sighed with relief. "Lucifer is planning to meet Michael tonight at Michael's arms warehouse. Michael's all pissed off because he thinks Lucifer killed me and then some of Lucifer's people attacked Michael's people last night, and I can pretty much guarantee that if Michael sees him, it's going to end bloody. Have you called either of them?"

Joshua scoffed. "I've been calling both of them _and_ Raphael _and_ Castiel almost non-stop since I found out your father was coming home. None of them have answered."

"Well, Cas is with me. He knows what's happening. As for Michael, Lucifer, and Raphael… I don't know. Look, when my dad gets here, you need to bring him right to Michael's warehouse. I don't know when Lucifer's planning to swing by, but Michael's thing is at midnight and I'm pretty sure Lucifer won't wait until eleven-thirty. The sooner, the better. I'm gonna head out there, too, but if anyone can stop them, it's my dad. You know that. I'm really just going there as a backup, in case I get there before Dad does. I'm pretty sure the fact I'm alive is gonna stun both of them long enough for them to not attack each other."

"That's an excellent idea. Of course, I'll bring your father by." Joshua was silent for a moment. "I'm… so glad you're alive, Gabriel. It feels like a dream. We mourned. We didn't know what happened to your body, so…"

"Yeah, that was all part of the plan. I had help. Don't worry about me."

"I'm always going to worry about you boys. Now I'm going to head to the airport to pick up your father. Good luck."

"Thanks. You too." Gabriel hung up and looked back at the other three, who were now looking at him with a great deal of interest. "No time to explain. Dean, we need to go."

"Go where?"

"Back to the city. I have to intervene with Michael and Lucifer."

"I'm coming with you," Castiel said immediately.

"Same," Sam added.

"No. _Hell_ no. If there's even a chance that my dad doesn't get there in time, you could be in danger. Dean, I don't even want to bring you in the first place, but the car's yours and I'm not about to get in between you and it."

Dean snorted with laughter, but Castiel narrowed his eyes. "They're my brothers as well, Gabriel. I'm coming with you."

"You can't just leave me here," Sam said obstinately. "Hell no. What if something happens to you while you're gone? I'm going to be stuck here alone."

"I agree with Sam," Dean said as he stood up. "And the longer we stay here and argue about it, the more likely it is that one of your brothers hurts the other. I know you don't want that. So it looks like all of us are going, huh?"

Gabriel gritted his teeth. They were right. He couldn't just _not_ bring Castiel, and he couldn't justify leaving Sam here by himself. "Alright, fine. But we have to move out _now_."

Sam and Castiel jumped up and went for their jackets.

"Don't make me regret this, okay?" Gabriel added as they headed outside. "If any of you gets hurt…"

"What about you?" Sam asked. "They could hurt you, too."

"Possible, but not likely. Not after I've just come back from the dead." He slid into the front passenger's seat of the Impala as Dean climbed into the driver's seat and Sam and Castiel got into the backseat. "Just stay down, okay?" He glanced at Dean. "Head for the city. I'll give you directions."


	25. Chapter 25

_Celestial City, 7:00 PM local time._

He must have been out of his mind. That was the only plausible explanation for grabbing Lucifer by his lapels and shoving him against the wall of his office. "Are you daft?" he demanded, even as he realized he was probably more insane than Lucifer. _No one_ manhandled Lucifer Milligan.

But the strawberry blonde didn't appear bothered at all. He simply said, "What are you talking about?" He didn't even shake off Balthazar's hands. He appeared completely untroubled with the way Balthazar had just burst in, quite without warning, and pushed him against the wall.

"This _madness_! You know Michael wants to kill you, and you're going to _meet_ the bastard?"

The younger man shrugged. "He's my brother. What else can I do?"

"But he doesn't even know you're meeting him. You can't really believe that this will end well, can you?"

"I know how this will end," Lucifer said quietly. "I'm not an idiot."

"Apparently you are, if you're just going to walk into that situation," Balthazar snapped, well-aware he was on very shaky ground here. In the course of thirty seconds, he'd shoved Lucifer against a wall, called him crazy, and then called him an idiot. It was more than anyone else had ever gotten away with before. He wondered briefly why Lucifer hadn't flipped out yet, and then he started wondering why he consistently felt the need to press his luck further.

"It's complicated. But I don't think a phone call will suffice in this case."

Balthazar swallowed and finally let go of Lucifer's jacket. He was wearing another white suit, a different one than two nights ago, and he tugged on the bottom hem to straighten his jacket. "I see," the older man murmured. "Are you going alone?"

"No. I'm bringing Roman and probably Samadhi."

He knew he couldn't pull off what Gabriel had asked of him. Lucifer was set on going. He couldn't be talked out of it. "I'm going, too," he said finally.

"No. Absolutely not."

"Why not?" Balthazar couldn't keep the sharp edge out of his tone, the spark of anger over Lucifer's sheer stupidity.

"Because," he said quietly. For a second, Balthazar thought he saw something sad flicker behind Lucifer's blue eyes, but he couldn't be sure. "I don't want to put you in danger."

"I'm going with you," Balthazar repeated.

Lucifer looked like he wanted to protest further, but he finally relented. "Alright. We're leaving in five minutes. Will you be ready?"

Balthazar nodded once and took a step back, out of arm's reach. "I'm ready now. I'll go get Roman and wait by the car." Without waiting for an answer, he left the office as quickly as he'd entered. As he went, Lucifer mentally fumbled for something else, anything else to say, but nothing came to mind. And then the door closed and he was alone.

But maybe it was better that Balthazar was coming with him. It would give him some small comfort to have him close, at least for a little while.

* * *

_Approaching Celestial City, 7:30 PM local time._

Gabriel anxiously drummed his fingers on the door handle next to him. It was the only sound in the otherwise-quiet car, and it was maddening. Castiel knew his brother was preoccupied with waiting for the call from Joshua, letting them know that their father had landed and cleared customs, but the sound was nothing short of annoying.

"He'll call," Castiel said quietly.

"It's already seven-thirty."

"Customs takes awhile, even with Dad's connections. Besides, he brought Inias and Samandriel back with him."

Gabriel didn't look satisfied with that answer. "Can't this thing go any faster?" he asked Dean.

Dean looked away from the road for a moment to glare at Gabriel. "I'm going eighty. Any faster and we could get pulled over."

"I'll pay the damn ticket myself."

"The ticket isn't the problem. It's how goddamn long we'll be stopped. Cops _love_ to fuck with people. They'll take forever."

Gabriel rolled his eyes and tried not to groan.

"We'll be fine," Sam said. "We'll get there in time."

He knew there was no way Sam could know that for sure, but he let himself believe it for awhile. It was nice to imagine a future where they arrived in time to avert disaster and their father came home and stayed home and Michael had a dozen babies and Lucifer went back to giving his younger brothers noogies (okay, maybe not that) and Raphael got married to Ruby and maybe he could pursue this thing with Sam while Castiel chased after Dean. An ideal future where Michael and Rachel would be happy again and Lucifer and Meg would be happy again and _everyone_ could just calm down and have a good, long laugh over Gabriel's faked death. (He wasn't holding his breath for that one.) Maybe it would be far into the future, but it could happen.

His musings were interrupted when the satellite phone in his hand rang. He answered it on the first ring. "Joshua?"

"Gabriel, your father just landed. It could be close to forty-five minutes before he gets through customs, but I'll give you another call as soon as he's in the car. Right to the warehouse, correct?"

"Yes. Make sure you explain the situation to him." Gabriel knew he was taking liberties by telling Joshua what to do, but there were extenuating circumstances. "Just… just hurry."

"I'll do my best," Joshua said, sounding a bit annoyed. Maybe it was being constantly bossed around by Gabriel that he didn't quite approve of, but he would probably discuss it with him later. Now wasn't the time.

As soon as Gabriel hung up, he announced, "Dad landed and Joshua's gonna call back once he gets through customs."

"Well, that's better than nothing," Castiel pointed out. "At least he's on the ground."

"Yeah, I guess," Gabriel muttered. He glanced at the clock on the dashboard. It was seven-forty-five. They needed to hurry. He had no idea when Michael and Lucifer would be arriving at the warehouse, but it would be at least another hour before _they_ even got here. The tension was mounting and Gabriel was not happy about it.

* * *

_Celestial City Airport, 8:15 PM local time._

The moment Chuck was out of baggage claim with Inias and Samandriel in tow, Joshua flagged him down, hanging up with Gabriel. "Sir, we have to go now," he said hurriedly, taking the largest suitcase from Chuck.

"Why? What's going on? Were you able to contact Michael or—"

"No," Joshua said. He started heading toward the doors, and Chuck quickened his pace to keep up with him. "I was only able to speak to Gabriel and Castiel. They're together. But Michael and Lucifer and Raphael remain out of contact. And that is a big problem," he added, popping the trunk of the car and heaving Chuck's suitcase into it. As he started fitting Inias and Samandriel's suitcases in as well, he continued. "There was an incident last night with Lucifer rallying his people. A few of them attacked some of Michael's people, and Michael is furious." He slammed the trunk closed and got into the front seat as Chuck got in the passenger's seat and Inias and Samandriel climbed into the backseat. "He's rallying his own people tonight at his arms warehouse. Very soon, in fact. At midnight. I believe Raphael will be there, too. He and Michael have been nigh inseparable since you left. Anyway, Lucifer found out about the meet with Michael and his people and he decided he was going to meet Michael there for whatever reason and…" He put the car in drive and pulled away from the curb as fast as he could with the traffic around them. "Well, Gabriel is convinced Michael is going to kill Lucifer. Gabriel's on his way there right now to avert it, but he may not make it in time. We have to go, too. Gabriel may be able to stop them, but…" Joshua glanced at Chuck. "The boys need their father back."

Chuck nodded quickly. "Then let's go."

Joshua picked up his speed as they cleared airport traffic. "It's good to have you back," he added.

Chuck found himself staring out the window. He hadn't realized just how much he missed being home until he returned. "It's good to be back."

"I… I don't think Gabriel's concern for the situation is justified. I know Michael is angry, but I don't believe he would actually kill Lucifer. Or vice versa. But I do believe that, with all five of them in one place, it's ideal for a reunion."

Chuck let himself smile for a moment. Yes, he was definitely looking forward to seeing his sons again. "So only Castiel knows that Gabriel is alive?"

"As far as I know. That should be interesting to see, too. I have no idea how they'll react to see Gabriel back from the dead."

"I know Michael will be thrilled. And Raphael. I can't imagine why Lucifer would be anything other than ecstatic, either. He must be wracked with guilt over it."

"I honestly don't know," Joshua murmured. "I do know that he didn't spend very much time at his own birthday party on Saturday night. From what I hear, he was unaccounted for most of the night. He arrived, drank for about a half an hour, and then disappeared until almost midnight. Even then, he didn't look very relaxed."

"It certainly sounds like he's broken up about it."

"Yes. I believe he deeply regrets it. And no matter what Michael has said, I believe he knows it, too. I don't think he'll kill Lucifer. Not when he thinks Gabriel is still dead. He won't want to destroy this family any more than he thinks Lucifer already has."

Chuck nodded. "I have to agree."

* * *

_Celestial City, 8:50 PM local time._

The car pulled to a stop next to the warehouse, the brakes screeching softly in the night air. About thirty feet away, Michael's car was parked and presumably empty. Balthazar looked over at Lucifer to say something, anything—he wasn't sure what—but he paused when he saw the gun in Lucifer's hands. In the dark, broken only by the headlights bouncing off the side of the building and back into the car, he watched as Lucifer ejected the clip, checked the number of rounds, and locked it back into place.

"I thought this was going to just be a talk," Balthazar said quietly.

Lucifer looked up at him. "It's insurance," he said curtly, opening his door. "Stay in the car."

"Fuck you. I'm going in with you."

If Lucifer saw the glance that Roman exchanged with Samadhi, he didn't say anything. "Fine. Your funeral."

Balthazar ignored the comment and popped open his own door, zipping his jacket up as he slid out of the car. He nudged it closed with his hip and followed Lucifer into the warehouse.

* * *

_Celestial City, 9:00 PM local time._

Joshua parked and cut the engine as Chuck looked around. There was Michael's car, and Lucifer's car with that license plate of his reading BADWOLF, and a very old Chevrolet with three people visible.

Chuck climbed out as one of the passengers got out of the backseat. "Dad?" Castiel's voice floated over.

"Castiel!" Chuck ran toward his son, overcome with relief, and flung his arms around him. "I missed you. Where's Gabriel?"

"He just went ins—"

He was cut short. From inside the warehouse, there was the crack of a gunshot, and a moment later, someone screamed, " _NO!_ "

"No-no-no-no-no!" Chuck breathed. Feeling his heart turn leaden, he released his youngest son and dashed inside.

* * *

_Eight minutes ago._

The inside of the warehouse was dark. Lucifer contemplated turning on a light, but decided against it at the last minute. He knew Michael was here—his car was parked out in front, after all—but he had no idea where he could be. He definitely wasn't on the main floor, though. He was probably in one of the side offices.

Lucifer began pacing the perimeter, sensing Balthazar three steps behind him as he went. His presence was reassuring, although he didn't want to contemplate why. Still, he wondered what Balthazar would say if he knew he hadn't spoken to his wife since Saturday night.

It couldn't have been more than two or three minutes before the halogen lights finally flickered on, flooding the warehouse with light. Lucifer spun in place to see Michael and Raphael exiting one of the side doors onto the main floor. "Lucifer," Michael said coldly, although his head tilted slightly to the side in surprise. "I can't say I expected to see _you_ here."

"I'm a master of the unexpected," Lucifer said coolly. "It's been awhile."

"Yes. A lot has happened since we last saw each other. You murdering Gabriel being the most significant, I think."

A muscle in Lucifer's jaw twitched. "That was rather unfortunate, indeed. Although it was justified. You don't know the story."

Michael sneered. "What _possible_ excuse could you have for killing my brother?"

"He was harboring the Winchesters. He was betraying _both_ of us! We thought he was staying out of this, but he got right in the middle of it with that decision! Him and Castiel both."

"Michael," Raphael said quietly, warningly, with a glance toward the main door, but the elder Milligan ignored him.

"And _that_ is your explanation for why you struck down Gabriel? He was trying to keep the Winchesters away from us? Fuck, Lu, I really hoped you at least had a decent justification for your actions, but apparently I was wrong." Michael shook his head in disgust. "I can't believe you. After all the things we've been through, you could just kill him without a second thought."

Lucifer's lip curled. "I did the best I could with the information I had at that moment. And the information was telling me that Gabriel was a traitorous, backstabbing liar. And I think that if you'd been in my situation, you would have done the same as I did!"

In the distance, Balthazar heard another car pulling up near the warehouse, but it barely registered in his head. _Lucifer, shut up! Don't provoke him!_

"You— _what_?! How could you think that? How could you _possibly_ entertain the notion that I could kill Gabriel? No, I'm not capable of that! You, on the other hand—you've been nothing but disloyal and disrespectful since before Dad even left! It's because of _you_ he's not coming back!"

It happened in a flash. Lucifer went for the gun holstered under his left arm, but Michael was quicker. In one smooth motion, he drew his own gun, aimed, and fired.

The impact jolted Lucifer's whole body, and Balthazar could only watch in horror as his lover crumpled to the floor and the light went out of his eyes. He stared with rising panic as blood stained his crisp white suit red and his eyes stayed open, hollow and empty, staring at the ceiling. Someone screamed out, " _NO!_ " but he could barely hear it with the dull thud of his own heartbeat in his ears and he stumbled backward. _I failed. I failed. I failed._

There was no way this had been faked. Lucifer was too still, his eyes were open and unblinking, his whole face devoid of expression.

"Gabriel?" Michael breathed, and somehow, _that_ penetrated the veil in Balthazar's mind. He finally blinked and realized that the golden-haired Milligan was a few feet from him, his face ashen and horrified as he looked at Lucifer's body and back up at Michael. But Gabriel didn't say anything. He just looked from Michael to Lucifer and back.

There was the sound of someone running, drawing closer, and Balthazar numbly turned to see— _oh, God_ —Chuck Milligan.

The blonde could barely breathe. Every inhalation was labored and every time he exhaled, the weight on his chest grew heavier. His whole body was trembling as he slowly backed away, outside the warehouse.

"What's going on?" Roman demanded as soon as he saw Balthazar. Roman and Samadhi had gotten out of the car as soon as they heard the gunshot, and Castiel was there also, along with two other men Balthazar didn't recognize.

"Roché, what's happening?" Castiel asked, his face pale with worry.

Balthazar could only numbly shake his head, but it confirmed the worst. Castiel immediately rushed inside with the other four close behind him, leaving Balthazar by himself.

Inside the warehouse, Chuck brushed past the blonde near Gabriel and looked from Michael, who he could see immediately and looked stunned and horrified, to his left.

If felt like he'd been punched in the stomach. "Lucifer?" he breathed, taking a tentative step forward. It didn't seem real, but as he felt himself sinking to his knees next to his son's body, it finally sank in just how real this was. "Lucifer?" he said, louder now and with a tremor to his voice. His throat constricted and his eyes burned with tears. "No," he whimpered, fisting Lucifer's jacket and pitching forward. His tears finally spilled over as he rested his head against his son's chest. "No, please…" He shifted his grip to cradle Lucifer in his arms, as if he could bring him back through sheer force of will. Even though his eyes were empty, they were still the same ones he'd first looked into mere moments after his birth. And now he was forced to look into them moments after his death. He could almost hear the gunshot that had taken his son's life. "My boy," he sobbed, hugging him closer. "My baby boy… I'm sorry, I shouldn't have left you, I'm so sorry…"

He felt someone rubbing his back and looked up to see Gabriel's tear-streaked face. "I'm sorry, Dad," he said hoarsely. "I—"

"This isn't your fault," Chuck whispered, shaking his head. "It's mine." He looked back down at Lucifer's vacant face and swallowed hard. "Call the police."

In shock, Gabriel looked up at Raphael and Michael. The elder Milligan looked stunned, but Raphael just looked sad. "But, Dad—" Michael started.

"No," Chuck barked, a sharpness to his tone that Gabriel hadn't heard in a long time. He stared down Michael. "This wasn't supposed to happen, Michael. No one was supposed to die." He gently released Lucifer and stood up. "I thought I taught you boys about forgiveness, compassion. I have been more than lenient with all of you, and look where that got us. If things had been different, if Lucifer really _had_ killed Gabriel and I arrived in time to stop this from happening, I would make sure he was arrested, too. I have been more than fair with you all for far too long. I'm sorry, Michael. But this was never my plan." He glanced back down at Lucifer and felt his sadness rise up again. "I love you, but this is the way it has to be now." He looked back at Gabriel, caught sight of Castiel and Joshua along with the Winchesters and two of Lucifer's people, and sighed. "It's time to set things right."


	26. Epilogue

_Celestial City, one week later._

Gabriel and Sam were late, not that Chuck noticed. He was in such a deep state of grieving that he barely noticed anything. He was vaguely aware of Meg on his left and Rachel on his right, the former wracked with sobs and the latter sitting quietly as the occasional tear rolled down her cheek. Castiel wasn't an idiot—he knew that Rachel was more deeply mourning her husband's arrest and inevitable conviction than her late brother-in-law, but they had all been family, however strained relationships had gotten, and the news of Gabriel's return to life and Lucifer's subsequent death had rocked the city.

Raphael sat on Rachel's other side, staring at the closed casket with a photograph of a grinning, twenty-three-year-old Lucifer on a motorcycle with twenty-year-old Meg behind him, laughing with her arms around his waist. Raphael's demeanor was much like his father's—a numb denial of what had happened, even though he'd seen it happen, he'd seen Gabriel dashing toward the door, he'd tried to tell Michael that he was coming. But Michael had ignored him, and Lucifer had died still thinking he'd killed Gabriel. That was the part that ate up Raphael inside. He tried not to blame himself, but he couldn't help thinking that if he had just tried a little harder to reassure Michael that their father would return—he didn't think he'd ever forget the agonized look on Michael's face when he looked up and saw their father, and the look he'd given Michael, the one that said _I don't know who you are anymore_ —maybe Lucifer wouldn't have died.

Ruby was next to Raphael, one arm wrapped comfortingly around his shoulders, although he didn't appear to notice, either. She wasn't crying, but she had an appropriately sad look on her face. She didn't like seeing Raphael in as much pain as he obviously was. He'd told her bits and pieces of the situation as it transpired over the last few months, and she imagined she knew better than Meg and possibly Rachel what had happened. She understood how torn Raphael had been. On one hand, he had his oldest brother, the one who'd always protected him as a child, the one who'd always tried so hard to be perfect for their father, the one who'd been bound and determined to keep the family together in their father's absence. On the other hand, his other older brother, the rebellious one, the one who thought he killed their brother. No, Lucifer hadn't deserved to die. Even if Gabriel really had been killed, Lucifer didn't deserve to die.

But Lucifer had obviously thought he had. The initial investigation had inventoried the personal items Lucifer had on him when he died, including the gun, halfway out of the holster. It turned out, the clip didn't have a single round in it. It was completely harmless.

This was common knowledge within the family by now. Even Michael knew; the moment it sank in that he'd shot his unarmed brother, he'd collapsed onto the floor of his holding cell and sobbed. He hadn't meant for everything to get so utterly fucked-up. He had only done what he thought was best under the circumstances, not realizing just how far out-of-touch he was with reality. He wished he'd listened to Raphael, had taken his brother's hesitation to heart. Raphael had been right, of course: their father came back, a revenge killing, especially on one of their own, wasn't right, and everything would have been, _should_ have been okay if he had only stopped to think for five minutes.

Michael had arrived shortly before the rest of the mourners arrived, mercifully dressed in a black suit and tie, although he had a tracking band around his ankle and two armed guards on either side of him. He wasn't going to try to make a break for it, though. Just as Lucifer had obviously accepted his fate when he learned Michael intended to kill him as punishment for striking down Gabriel, so Michael accepted his own punishment for killing Lucifer. He headed up the aisle toward Lucifer's casket, rested his hand against the solid pine, and finally dropped to his knees, crying again for what seemed like the hundredth time in the past week. He stayed there, poised and praying, for nearly ten minutes before he stood back up and turned around to see his father and his wife both looking at him.

Chuck had regained his awareness long enough to slide out of the pew with Rachel right behind him. Michael didn't what to expect from either of them, so he braced himself for the worst as his father stood in front of him, oblivious to the guards standing five feet away.

"I'm sorry, Dad," Michael murmured, his face still streaked with dried tears. He'd managed to stop crying, but his eyes were still red and he felt like he could fall over at any moment.

"I know," Chuck whispered. He reached up and pressed his hand against Michael's face until his oldest son met his eyes. "I forgive you."

That was all it took to send Michael over the edge again. He broke down, but in a moment, Rachel was there, holding him up and crying into his shoulder. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Michael repeated, whether to his father or his wife or his family or everyone, he wasn't quite sure. And even though those words would never be enough to adequately convey his grief over what he'd done, he said them anyway and hoped they'd understand.

Before he left, he hugged Raphael and Castiel, wondered briefly where Gabriel was but didn't ask, and noted both the way Dean Winchester gave him a stony glare from next to Castiel and the way Meg purposely avoided looking at him as he passed. He didn't blame her in the slightest, though—he _had_ killed her husband, and no matter what problems they may have had, there had been a time when they were in love, and Meg _still_ loved him. But Michael did leave, less than fifteen minutes after arriving, and for a time, everything was quiet except for the footsteps of mourners passing the casket to pay their respects.

Gabriel and Sam slid into the pew behind Chuck, next to Castiel and Dean, about ten minutes after Michael left. "Where have you been?" Dean whispered, trying and failing not to look annoyed. It didn't look like their suits were particularly rumpled, so they probably hadn't been doing anything inappropriate (especially considering it was Gabriel's brother's funeral), but Dean knew Gabriel well enough to not put anything past him.

"This wasn't the only funeral I had to go to today," Gabriel hissed.

Castiel shot his brother an alarmed look. "Who else died?"

The irritation melted off Gabriel's face, replaced by an aching sadness. Sam slung his arm around Gabriel's shoulders as the older man murmured, "One of my people. Balthazar Roché. He was found dead Tuesday morning in the Presidential Suite of Perdition." Gabriel swallowed. "Self-inflicted gunshot wound." He didn't mention the other piece of the puzzle, the last one that finally fell into place. With Meg two feet away, he didn't feel comfortable saying it, but he'd been found with a note next to him that simply said, _I'll follow you into the dark._ He was ashamed of how long it had taken for him to realize—Roché had been in love with Lucifer. Based on the number of calls and texts they'd exchanged, the way Roché seemed to almost always be at Lucifer's side, the watch around his wrist with the initials _LMM_ engraved into the underside, the feeling had almost certainly been mutual. But Gabriel didn't want to bring it up, especially with Meg sitting right there. If it wasn't a slap in the face that her late husband had been having an affair and that his lover had just killed himself as a result of his death, nothing would be.

But Gabriel and Sam had actually been here for a few minutes already. They had just waited to come in because Sam had gotten a phone call from Jess, letting him know that Jo and Pamela had brought her and Anna back to the city and that they were all safe. Jo and Anna had decided to just move to the other side of the country and Jess was thinking of doing the same, but she wanted to return Sam's things to him before she made any definite decisions. He promised to call her back after the funeral, hung up, and followed his presumably-boyfriend into the cathedral.

Dean laced his fingers tightly through Castiel's and lifted the younger man's hand to his lips. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to feel in this case—he was genuinely sorry for Castiel's loss, no matter how big of douchebags his two oldest brothers were or had been (he was reserving judgment on Raphael for the moment), but at the same, he was glad it was over.

And the look on Gabriel's face said the same. He'd wanted it to be over, too. He wasn't happy with the ending, but the fighting was over. He wished it hadn't taken his brother, sent another to jail, and broken his father's heart, but there was peace, at least.

He wouldn't lie to himself, though. It wasn't worth it.

* * *

"I'm sorry you two got mixed up in this. It was never my intention," Chuck said quietly. It was six hours later, and Sam and Dean Winchester were standing with the Milligan patriarch in his foyer, while his three youngest sons skirted around the living room, not saying much of anything.

"It wasn't your fault," Dean said.

"Maybe not, but it might as well have been. I didn't realize my sons still remembered your father. I had hoped that Gabriel would be the only one you would have to deal with—and maybe Castiel—but I never anticipated that Lucifer and Michael would try to…" Chuck sighed and shook his head. "They remembered that I never asked your father for any type of repayment. That was intentional, boys. I never wanted it. I… When I heard about the fire that took your mother, I immediately thought back to my family, how devastated we had been when my wife died. I sympathized. I knew how badly John must have been hurting. He was so glad you two were alright, but to lose Mary… I could see his pain. And I wanted to help him. Not to exploit him, like Lucifer and Michael must have thought. It was intended to be a gift. I wanted to help the three of you, to give you the support that you needed, and that was all. Seeing how your family would be helped, to bring you back to life—that was what I wanted as compensation. And my sons twisted that." Chuck glanced into the living room for a moment before looking back at Sam and Dean. "I know your father probably wouldn't have believed that, either, but it's true. He told me once or twice that nothing comes for free. Well, sometimes, it's supposed to. If I had realized Lucifer and Michael didn't understand that, I would have explained it to them. All I wanted was to help. That's all."

"Thank you," Sam murmured.

A small smile flickered across Chuck's face momentarily. "I'm grateful that at least you two managed to stay together. I don't quite feel like I've failed at everything. And it's quite clear to me that Castiel and Gabriel care for you a great deal. I would like to see them happy, and I would like to see you happy as well." As Sam and Dean exchanged a quick glance, Chuck added, "I know that what's happened is tragic, and Michael may not ever be able to forgive himself, but maybe something good could still come from this mess. And if it does happen, don't regret it."

With a mysterious smile, Chuck left the Winchesters standing in the foyer as he went to the living room.

"Did he just—" Dean started, but Sam knew immediately what he was asking.

"I think so."

Gabriel and Castiel appeared out of nowhere. "What did my dad want?" Gabriel asked.

"I think to tell us that he's cool with us dating you," Sam said.

Castiel nodded thoughtfully, automatically wrapping an arm around Dean. "That doesn't surprise me. With all this chaos, I know he'd be relieved if someone were happy at the end of the day."

"Makes sense," Dean said. "We are _not_ double-dating with them, though."

Gabriel couldn't contain his giggle.


End file.
